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diff --git a/75727-0.txt b/75727-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e9b400c --- /dev/null +++ b/75727-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4506 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75727 *** + + + + + +DRIVEN TO BAY. + +VOL. II. + + + + + DRIVEN TO BAY. + + _A NOVEL._ + + BY + FLORENCE MARRYAT, + + AUTHOR OF + + ‘LOVE’S CONFLICT,’ ‘MY OWN CHILD,’ + ‘THE MASTER PASSION,’ ‘SPIDERS OF SOCIETY,’ + ETC., ETC. + + _IN THREE VOLUMES._ + + VOL. II. + + LONDON: + F. V. WHITE & CO., + 31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. + + 1887. + + [_All Rights reserved._] + + + + + EDINBURGH + COLSTON AND COMPANY + PRINTERS + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +_CONTENTS._ + + + CHAP. PAGE + + I. MAGGIE, 1 + + II. IN THE DOLDRUMS, 19 + + III. THE WIDOW, 35 + + IV. ON THE POOP DECK, 52 + + V. THE GLASS FALLS, 69 + + VI. TO THE RESCUE, 82 + + VII. FREE, 99 + + VIII. CONFIDENCES, 114 + + IX. THE WHALER, 131 + + X. DANGER, 141 + + XI. SHIPPING SEAS, 161 + + XII. A GAME OF DOMINOES, 177 + + XIII. IN THE SMOKE-ROOM, 192 + + XIV. SETTLED, 209 + + XV. THE LETTER, 224 + + + + +“SELECT” NOVELS. + +_Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each._ + +AT ALL BOOKSELLERS AND BOOKSTALLS. + + +By FLORENCE MARRYAT. + + THE HEIR-PRESUMPTIVE. + THE HEART OF JANE WARNER. + UNDER THE LILIES AND ROSES. + MY OWN CHILD. + HER WORLD AGAINST A LIE. + PEERESS AND PLAYER. + FACING THE FOOTLIGHTS. + A BROKEN BLOSSOM. + MY SISTER THE ACTRESS. + + +By ANNIE THOMAS (Mrs Pender Cudlip). + + HER SUCCESS. + KATE VALLIANT. + JENIFER. + ALLERTON TOWERS. + FRIENDS AND LOVERS. + + +By LADY CONSTANCE HOWARD. + + MATED WITH A CLOWN. + ONLY A VILLAGE MAIDEN. + MOLLIE DARLING. + SWEETHEART AND WIFE. + + +By MRS HOUSTOUN, Author of “Recommended to Mercy.” + + BARBARA’S WARNING. + + +By MRS ALEXANDER FRASER. + + THE MATCH OF THE SEASON. + A FATAL PASSION. + A PROFESSIONAL BEAUTY. + + +By IZA DUFFUS HARDY. + + ONLY A LOVE STORY. + NOT EASILY JEALOUS. + LOVE, HONOUR AND OBEY. + + +By JEAN MIDDLEMASS. + + POISONED ARROWS. + + +By MRS H. LOVETT CAMERON. + + IN A GRASS COUNTRY. + A DEAD PAST. + A NORTH COUNTRY MAID. + + +By DORA RUSSELL. + + OUT OF EDEN. + + +By LADY VIOLET GREVILLE. + + KEITH’S WIFE. + + +By NELLIE FORTESCUE HARRISON, Author of “So Runs my Dream.” + + FOR ONE MAN’S PLEASURE. + + +By EDMUND LEATHES. + + THE ACTOR’S WIFE. + + +By HARRIETT JAY. + + A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE. + + +COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. + + + + +DRIVEN TO BAY. + + + + +[Illustration] + +DRIVEN TO BAY. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +MAGGIE. + + +A large passenger vessel like the _Pandora_, that makes voyages of two +and three months’ duration, without stopping on the way, is a hotbed +of flirtation. When the first excitement of a ‘life on the ocean wave’ +has toned down, and the novels are exhausted, and everybody knows +everybody, then scandal and courtship become the order of the day. +And what glorious opportunities such a life presents for ripening +friendship into love. As in a ballroom the young couples frequent the +conservatories, the stairs, the lobbies, and hall, anywhere where they +can talk and listen unobserved, so on board-ship they may be found +sneaking about the after-part of the poop, the cabin passages, and +the lounges in the saloon. They make appointments on the side of the +quarter-deck in the dog-watch, or the first night-watch, and there +remain gazing at the moon and the stars, or in each other’s eyes, +discussing astronomy, or marine aquaria, or the Lord knows what, until +the young lady is summarily ordered below. A chaperon cannot possibly +follow her charge into every corner of a large ship, for eighty +consecutive days. She might be able to keep a strict eye over her in a +ballroom, but it would be a herculean task to accomplish the same feat +at sea. And so a lengthened propinquity on board-ship often brings +about marriages and scandals that never would have taken place on +shore. It is also a great vehicle for gossip. What have the passengers +to whom no one makes love to do but scandalise the rest. From the +Captain to the Jemmy Ducks, from the noble lord who is travelling in +the state-room for his pleasure, to the humble emigrant whose whole +property consists of the bundle he carries about with him, all who +are unwary enough to tell any tales about themselves, or conspicuous +enough to have tales told of them, supply food for discussion over the +afternoon cups of tea, and learn with astonishment a few weeks after +how much more their companions know of their lives and actions than +they do themselves. The _Pandora_ had found the north-east trade winds +by this time, and making a south-westerly course, was fast diminishing +the distance between her and the line. Though it was the autumn of the +year, it might well have been mistaken for the spring, for the birds +seemed to be pairing in all directions. Mr Harland and Miss Vansittart +were seldom apart. Captain Lovell was paying all the attention in his +power to Alice Leyton, whilst Vernon Blythe was eating his heart out +for the love of Iris Hetherley, and cursing his fate for being an +officer of the ship instead of a passenger. Mr Fowler, the mysterious, +flew like a humming-bird from flower to flower, enlivening the married +ladies with morsels of scandal, and complimenting the girls on their +beauty and their wit. Every one liked him, but no one had succeeded in +discovering who he was, or what he was doing on board the _Pandora_. +He had a wonderful knack of changing the conversation directly it +veered in his own direction, which made it appear impertinent to pursue +a curiosity which he so boldly evaded. In the second cabin, Will +Farrell had made himself a general favourite, and more than one lone +she creature, unattached, tried hard to induce him to take her in tow. +But though he was sociable with all, he was only intimate with one, and +that one was Maggie Greet. He had formed quite an attachment for this +girl. Had he possessed the means he would have transferred her from the +steerage to the second cabin, but he promised himself to make up for +that, to her, by-and-by. Meanwhile he spent every spare moment by her +side, and on deck they were always together. But Maggie would not be +persuaded to go on deck until nightfall, and then she wrapped herself +up in what appeared an absurd fashion, considering the warmth of the +weather. + +‘What are you afraid of?’ asked Farrell of her one evening. ‘You +couldn’t catch cold if you tried, in these latitudes.’ + +‘Toothache,’ replied Maggie mendaciously, ‘I have it dreadful +sometimes at night.’ + +‘That’s because you stop in the cabin too much. You stew down there +all day, and then when you come on deck, you feel the difference. You +should stop in the open air, like the others do, from morning till +night.’ + +‘And what would my poor lady do all by herself, whilst I was taking my +pleasure on deck?’ + +‘I know you’re very good to Miss Douglas, Maggie. It’s _that_ that +first made me feel I should like to have you for a friend. You’re a +staunch one, I’m sure. But why not persuade her to come, too? She’ll +kill herself if she mopes in her berth all the voyage. What’s the +matter with her? Is she sick?’ + +‘No! she isn’t sick.’ + +‘Why doesn’t she come on deck then?’ + +‘That’s _her_ business and not yours, Mr Farrell.’ + +‘True; but I should like to know a little more about you both. +Sometimes you call Miss Douglas your “_lady_,” and sometimes your +“_friend_.” Now, I can guess that you have lived together in England as +mistress and servant. But why don’t you say so?’ + +‘Have you got any more questions to ask me, Mr Farrell?’ said Maggie +coolly. + +They were sitting on the afterdeck together, and it was nearly dark, +except for an oil lamp in the forecastle, that threw an occasional +light on the girl’s face. Maggie was looking very pretty and pleasant +that evening. Her dark eyes were bright and merry; her curly hair was +blowing about in the sea breeze; over her head she had twisted a shawl +of scarlet and green. Her pertness became her roguish face, and Farrell +gazed at her admiringly as he answered,-- + +‘You’ll provoke me to ask you something that will make you angry, if +you look at me in that fashion, Maggie.’ + +‘And what may that be?’ + +‘A kiss?’ + +‘Well, asking and having is two different things, so I advise you to +spare your breath to cool your porridge.’ + +‘Now, you wouldn’t be so unkind as that, Maggie. But, seriously, can’t +you understand _why_ I want to know more about you. It isn’t idle +curiosity. It’s because--well, it’s because we seem to be rowing pretty +much in the same boat. We’re going to a new country together, where +we’ve got no friends; so why shouldn’t we be friends to each other?’ + +‘We _are_, aren’t we? anyway, there’s no need for _you_ to be more +friendly than you are, and I don’t quite see how you _could_ be.’ + +‘_I_ do. I would like to be the closest friend you had,--your friend +for life, Maggie. Do you understand me?’ + +‘No,’ replied Maggie stoutly, ‘I don’t.’ + +‘Then I’ll make it plainer to you. Will you marry me? I want a wife +to make a home for me in the new world, and you suit me down to the +ground. If you’ll say the word, I’ll marry you as soon as we touch +land. Is it a bargain?’ + +‘Lor’, Mr Farrell, are you poking fun at me?’ + +‘Indeed I am in earnest. I was never more so in my life.’ + +‘But you’re a gentleman born, and I’m only a servant. It’s right you +should know the truth now.’ + +‘Well, I’m not a gentleman by birth, Maggie, though I may look like +one to you. I was in the position of a gentleman once, but I lost it +through my own folly, and I shall never regain it. I got into sore +trouble through the rascality of another; and though I wasn’t really +guilty, appearances were against me, and I had to give up my place, and +take to earning my bread by the labour of my hands. So you see we’re +pretty equal; and a girl that can cook my dinner, and keep my house +clean, is just the sort of wife I shall want in my new home.’ + +‘What has become of the fellow as got you into trouble?’ asked Maggie, +without noticing his last remark. + +‘Curse him!’ exclaimed Farrell vehemently. ‘Don’t talk of him, Maggie, +or I shall forget myself, and where we are. For I’ll tell you a secret, +my dear. He’s on board this very ship!’ + +‘Lor’! and does he know that you’re here too?’ + +‘Yes. I hadn’t met him for years until I knocked up against him in the +shipping-office. He was taken aback at meeting me, I can tell you, and +hearing we were to sail in the same vessel. He tried to square me at +first, and then he tried to insult me. But I’ll have my revenge on him +yet. Wait till I meet him on the other side, and we’ll stand up, man +to man, till one of us drops--’ + +‘Don’t talk in that way, Mr Farrell--_don’t_!’ cried Maggie, as she +seized his clenched hand. ‘You make my blood run cold. What good will +it be to lose your life for a man like that? It won’t undo the wrong.’ + +‘You’re right there, Maggie. But it drives me mad to know _what he is_, +and then to see him carrying on as if he was a lord, and owned the +whole vessel. And all the girls fawning on him, and letting him do as +he likes with them. Lord, if they only knew his real character!’ + +‘What is his name, Mr Farrell?’ + +‘His right name is Horace Cain, but he’s hiding himself under a false +one.’ + +‘And what did he do?’ + +‘I can’t tell you that, Maggie, because it might leak out, and it +involves us both. He’s been my ruin in the old country, d--n him! I +don’t want him to spoil all my chances in the new.’ + +‘Well, then, I’d try and forget it, if I was you, and never speak to +him again. That’s more sensible than thinking of revenge.’ + +‘I _will_ try and forget it--more, I will promise you never to mention +it again--if you will be my wife, Maggie.’ + +Maggie shook her head. + +‘No, Mr Farrell--_that_ I can’t never be.’ + +‘But why? Don’t you like me?’ + +She did not answer, and he took her hand. + +‘Don’t say _no_ in such a hurry, my dear girl. I’ll work for you as +long as I have a pair of hands, and I’ll make you as happy as I can; +and it’ll be much more comfortable to come to a home of your own than +to serve in that of a stranger. Just think, now. I really like you very +much--in fact, I love you, or I wouldn’t propose such a thing. Am I +disagreeable to you, or can’t you love me a little in return?’ + +But all the answer Maggie gave was conveyed by her throwing her shawl +over her face and bursting into a storm of tears. + +‘Why! what is this? Have I said anything to vex you? Oh, don’t, _don’t_ +cry so!’ exclaimed Farrell anxiously. + +But Maggie sobbed on for a few minutes without intermission. Then, +suddenly stopping, she uncovered her face again, and turned to confront +him. + +‘Look here, Mr Farrell,’ she said, ‘don’t you never talk to me about +marriage again. I ain’t a marrying woman. I shall never marry you, nor +no one. Do you understand? I shall remain as I am to the last day of my +life.’ + +‘But why? Are you married already?’ + +The girl laughed harshly. + +‘No! I ain’t, nor likely to be. There’s no other man in the way. You +needn’t fear that.’ + +‘Then I shall go on asking you till you say yes.’ + +‘Mr Farrell! I tell you ’tain’t no use. I ain’t fit to be your wife. I +ain’t a good girl. Now, you’ve got it, straight from the shoulder, and +I hope you like it.’ + +For a moment Farrell was silent. It wasn’t a pleasant piece of news to +hear, as he interpreted it. But he loved the woman sincerely, and he +wouldn’t give her up just yet. + +‘No one is good. I daresay you’re no worse than others,’ he answered +presently. + +‘Yes I am,’ said Maggie, ‘I’m downright bad.’ + +‘What do you call “downright bad?”’ + +‘I don’t know why I should tell you,’ whimpered Maggie, wiping away a +fresh relay of tears; ‘but you’ve been very kind and good to me and my +dear mistress, and I wouldn’t like you to think that I’m ungrateful. +And I’m sure you won’t tell on me.’ + +‘God forbid!’ exclaimed Farrell solemnly. + +‘Well, then, I had a misfortune, and I went wrong,’ whispered Maggie, +in a very low voice. + +‘Poor child! Was it long ago?’ + +‘Better than two years. I was only seventeen.’ + +‘And where’s the brute that wronged you?’ exclaimed Farrell fiercely. + +‘Hush,’ cried Maggie, looking round her nervously. ‘Don’t speak so +loud. It’s all over now. It _has_ been ever since. I thought him good +and true at that time, but when I found out what a villain he was (and +much worse to others than he’d been to me), my love turned to hate, and +I could have killed him--except for others.’ + +‘And who are the others?’ + +‘I can’t tell you. ’Tisn’t my secret. It’s theirs. But you know all +now. And that’s the reason I can’t be your wife. You wouldn’t have +asked me if you’d known.’ + +‘Does Miss Douglas know your secret, Maggie?’ + +‘No, no,’ cried the girl excitedly, ‘and don’t you never hint it +to her, or I’ll kill you. Oh, my dear, sweet mistress! I’ve tried +sometimes to make her understand, but I haven’t dared tell her the +truth. I should die if I saw her sweet eyes look angry at me. Oh, +promise me, Mr Farrell, on your sacred honour, that you’ll never let +her guess I’ve been so wicked. For I’m her only comfort. There’s no one +else to love and care for her, and if she made me leave her, she’d be +all alone. And she’s in such dreadful trouble you can’t think. If it’s +wrong to stay by her--so pure and good as she is--I can’t help it, for +I’d lay down my life for her sake.’ + +She turned her face, all blurred and swollen with her tears, towards +him, as she spoke, and he bent down and kissed it tenderly. + +‘Poor child! I will carry your secret for ever in the depths of my +heart. And now, answer my question--Will you be my wife?’ + +‘Lor’! Mr Farrell, you can’t have listened to a word I said.’ + +‘I heard you perfectly, and I understand you have been wronged and +betrayed by a villain. So have I! and I am the worst of the two. We +have each yielded to the temptation that assailed us. We are equally +guilty, and I believe equally penitent. We have no right to reproach +each other. If your past is as entirely buried as mine, Maggie, let us +try to console each other in the future.’ + +‘Oh, sir! you are too good to me! I don’t deserve it. I didn’t think +any honest man would ever think of me now.’ + +‘You must call me “_Will_,” Maggie.’ + +‘When I’m accustomed to the idea a bit, I may. But I can’t believe it’s +true.’ + +‘It rests with you to make it so.’ + +‘_To be your wife!_’ said Maggie musingly--‘to be your lawful, married +wife, and have a home of my own in New Zealand. Oh, Mr Farrell,’ she +continued suddenly, as the conviction burst upon her, ‘I shall never +_never_ forget your goodness to the last hour of my life, and I’ll be +as true as steel to you, if only in gratitude for what you’ve said +to-day.’ + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER II. + +IN THE DOLDRUMS. + + +Aided by the steady trades, the _Pandora_ crept up to the line, and +in little more than a month from her date of sailing she crossed that +invisible goal, and fell in with a dead calm in the horse latitudes. + +It was a changeable day, but close and sultry, and the heat between +decks was intolerable. The sun occasionally peeped out from behind +black clouds, and cast his scorching rays upon the troubled waters, +which rose and fell in angry chops, like the breast of an indignant +woman. Everything was done to conciliate the fickle wind, but without +avail. It behaved like a spoilt child, which is never happy unless +acting in a contrary direction to what others desire. The yards were +squared in, as it hauled aft, but before the ropes were coiled up the +provoking element was round on the other quarter, and the shellbacks +manned the forebrace. Then it went right ahead, and the unfortunate +officer of the watch was compelled to box his yard, and have the +trouble of getting the _Pandora_ on her course again in a dead calm. +Heavy squalls came up from all points of the compass, and while they +passed over the vessel sent her galloping along at a splendid pace. But +in half-an-hour their force would expend itself; and torrents of rain +poured down and left the ship again in the doldrums. The officers were +weary of slacking away braces and countermanding orders; the sailors’ +hard hands, soaked with the rain, became sore and chafed; and the +passengers were grumbling and discontented, because they were unable +to remain on deck. + +The ‘boatswains,’ with their snowy plumage and long spiked-tail +feathers, sailed overhead, uttering shrill cries to their mates, but +not attempting to pounce down upon the flying fish which swam in shoals +close to the surface of the water, and the ‘shipjacks’ and ‘bonitas’ +rose frequently into the air, and fell lazily back upon the billows +with an awkward splash. Even the merry little ‘Mother Carey’s chickens’ +had ceased their continuous flight, and come to an anchor in the wake +of the vessel, where they rode up and down on the blue, mountainous +waves. + +Yet the rain was refreshing. It was not a cold pitiless storm, nor +a searching Scotch mist, but fell in a regular tropical downpour--a +drenching volume of warm water, that splashed in huge drops upon the +decks, that ran down the masts and rigging in a delightful shower-bath, +that washed the salt spray from the boats and spars, and made the +ship clean and fresh. Had these frequent squalls not mitigated the +fierceness of the sun’s rays, the decks would have been unbearable, +the sailors would have been obliged to adopt shoe leather, and the +pitch would have boiled out of the seams, and stuck to everything with +which it came in contact. But under the influence of the rain the +shellbacks pattered about with bare feet, enjoying the cool bath, and +not even taking the trouble to don their oilskins to protect them from +a wetting. Few people on shore know the true character of our English +sailors--fewer still have ever tried to find out what sort of animals +they are. There is a general opinion held by the land-lubber that the +sailor is a rollicking, devil-me-care, blasphemous creature, with a +wife in every port,--a great capacity for rum, and a tendency to sing, +‘Yeo heave, oh’ upon every possible occasion. But the real seaman is +very different from this. There is no such man as the brainless fool +who is depicted in drawing-room songs and on the stage as constantly +‘hoisting up his slacks’ and ‘tipping his flippers,’ and singing out +‘Hillee Haulee,’ or some equally childish refrain. + +The British sailor is certainly partial to rum, and he has every +reason to be so. When on a freezing night he is perched for a couple +of hours on the footrope of a yard, trying to handle an obstinate +topsail, which has torn the nails from his fingers, and caused him to +tuck his chin down to his breast to head against the biting wind; when +this uninviting task is completed, a lot of strong rum goes down like +mother’s milk, warming the very cockles of his heart, and giving him +fresh vigour and endurance to battle with the storm. + +Then with regard to the fairer sex, a sailor’s gallantry is a byword, +and what more natural than it should be so. It is so seldom he can +enjoy female society, and after having been located for months in +a forecastle, and subjected to the rough horse-play of his male +companions, the ways and words of women (even though they may be the +lowest of their sex) is a welcome change, and acts on the susceptible +nature of Jack like a charm. He adores woman collectively and +individually. At sea he sings her praises, and he boasts of her virtues +in every clime. He swears eternal fidelity to her before he leaves +England, and breaks his promise at the first port he touches at--still +_woman_, as a noun of multitude, is responsible for it all. And when +he returns home, he is as enthusiastic over Poll as if he had never +forgotten her for a single minute. His creed may be summed up in the +refrain of the ballad-- + + ‘It don’t matter what you do, + So long as the heart’s true, + And his heart _is_ true to Poll.’ + +But the British seaman has sterling qualities to counterbalance the +frivolity of his child-like nature. To stand by his shipmates in +times of trouble or sickness--to evince a strong attachment to little +children--to be honest and above-board in his dealings--to defend +the weak and punish the bully--to remember kind actions and forget +petty injustices, these are some of the virtues which stand out +boldly in the characters of our sailors, and more than counterbalance +any little failings of which they may be guilty. They are rough and +straightforward, preferring to settle an argument by the use of +their fists, than by philosophical reasoning. They are brave and +fearless,--careless of death, though they live under the daily chance +of becoming acquainted with Davy Jones’ locker, and yet simple in their +faith as little children. + +The sailors before the mast of the _Pandora_ were sixteen in +number--twelve able-bodied seamen and four ordinaries, who were +all comfortably housed in the forecastle, which was certified to +accommodate twenty-four hands. Their work at times, when the ship +required box-hauling and tacking, was not light, as the _Pandora_ was +heavily rigged, and only carried part of her complement. They were not +all English, amongst them being Swedes, Germans, and Spaniards, who +dressed in blue and red ‘jumpers,’ and made a picturesque group when +at work together. There is always one officer who is singled out as +a favourite by the seamen, and on the _Pandora_ a unanimous verdict +was passed in favour of Vernon Blythe. The chief mate was gruff and +tyrannical, and his orders were frequently accompanied by unnecessary +oaths, which lowered him in their estimation. The third officer was +only a newly-fledged mate, who had just hopped from the midshipman’s +berth, and, though holding a certificate, was looked on by the +sailors as a mere boy, and treated consequently with a respectful but +patronising interest. The ‘old man,’ as they designated their skipper, +was not disliked, though by no means a favourite. When at the wheel, +or in the captain’s quarters, he never interfered with them, but his +indefatigable system of working up was not appreciated. + +For a whole fortnight the _Pandora_ was making but little headway in +the doldrums, and during that period the sailors were continually +working ship. The captain raised the clews of his courses, and lowered +them again; ran up the headsails, and then manned the downhauls; set +the spanker, and trailed it in again. Everything was done by turn to +work the vessel out of those detestable latitudes, and he did not spare +his crew, which aggravated them to such an extent, that they growled +from morning till night, and rained imprecations on their commander’s +head, which, if put into effect, would have enriched the coffers of his +satanic majesty. + +Early one morning a treacherous squall burst upon the _Pandora_, which +threw her for a few seconds on her beam ends, till she was righted by +the cool pluck of Mr Coffin, who ordered the halliards to be let go; +and perceiving the yards would not come down, took charge of the helm +himself, and shivered the weather leeches, which righted the ship, +though she sailed within an inch of being taken flat aback, and losing +her sticks. When she was out of danger, Captain Robarts considered it +necessary to stay the vessel, as she was many points out of her course, +and the order was given to ‘’bout ship.’ The decks were now dry, and +the breeze fresh and invigorating. The passengers had crowded on the +knife-board to see the _Pandora ‘turned round’_--an operation which +was new to them. The ropes were cleared for running, and the hands +stationed; and when clean full ‘Sea-oh!’ was passed to the chief mate, +who, with a few men, was standing by to ease off the jib sheets on the +topgallant forecastle. When within a point and a half of the wind, and +the sails were hugging the masts, the order was shouted to ‘crossjack +haul,’ and the hands of the main fiferail gathered in the slack of the +braces, which whizzed and cracked through the blocks at the opposite +side, as the heavy yards swung round. + +But when square the lower yard brought up with a sudden jerk, and +refused to be pointed. + +‘What’s foul?’ roared Captain Robarts. + +‘There’s something in the starboard crossjack braceblock, sir,’ replied +the third officer. + +‘Send a hand up to clear it, then,’ bawled the irate skipper. + +Now it happened that the ship’s washerwoman had taken advantage of the +recent rainy weather to collect a quantity of fresh water, and that +very morning had hung her clean linen to dry on a small line suspended +over the deck, between the main shrouds. The velocity of the braces +as they ran up aloft made them twist and curl and assume fantastic +shapes, and as they careered in close proximity to the wet clothing, a +mysterious garment was caught up, and became jammed in the block. One +of the sailors ran up the ratlines, and clambered into the top; and, by +a strong pull from below, the garment was disengaged. The language of +the officers was high Dutch to the passengers assembled on the poop, +but from the visible excitement of the captain, they guessed that +something must have gone wrong, and watched the seaman curiously, as he +hastened up the rope ladder. + +‘What is it?’ shouted the skipper, as he saw the block was cleared. + +The sailor in the maintop did not answer, but glanced slyly down at his +shipmates, and then at the red flannel garment he held in his hand; +whilst the ladies and gentlemen stood in a group together, and looked +on with breathless interest. + +‘It is something _red_!’ exclaimed Alice Leyton, who was very close +to Captain Lovell. ‘What on earth can it be? Is it a flag, Jack?’ she +asked of Vernon, who stood just below them. + +‘I don’t know, Alice, but I don’t think it is,’ replied Jack, who +seemed unaccountably amused. + +‘It is just the colour of baby’s new pinafores. I shall be sorry if one +of them gets torn,’ said Mrs Leyton. + +‘What is it?’ repeated the captain, in a louder voice. ‘D--n it! Hold +it out, man.’ + +Without hesitation the sailor obeyed. He held the mysterious obstacle +out at arm’s length, and the breeze, catching it on the right quarter, +unfurled it like a flag, and it remained distended in the air for the +benefit of all beholders. It was made of red flannel--it appeared to be +divided into two parts like twin bolster-covers on one stalk--and it +looked as if it would fit Mrs Vansittart. + +The silence which followed its appearance lasted for a minute only. +Then the ladies blushed crimson, and with subdued exclamations of +horror hid their faces behind their fans or in the pages of their +novels. The gentlemen, with ill-concealed smiles, turned away, lest +their amusement should confuse still further their fair companions; +and the boisterous sailors with one accord burst into loud shouts of +laughter, which, for the moment, was beyond the power of their officers +to control. + +The grim and pious captain even was moved by the liberal display of +that sacred, though unmentionable article of female clothing, and was +obliged to bite his lip and stamp his feet lest his noisy crew should +take advantage of his loss of self-command. Then assuming his usual +dignified manner, he bellowed out an order in a deep, stern voice, that +made every sailor hasten to the forebraces, and for a time forget the +comical little adventure which had upset the order and equanimity of +the _Pandora_. + +Vernon Blythe walked away to the lower deck with a broad smile upon +his face. He had laughed as heartily as the rest, until a distressed +look from Alice Leyton had recalled him to a sense of duty. But now, +as he found himself alone, the comical appearance of the red flannel +bolster cases, as they inflated in the breeze, came back forcibly upon +his mind, and he laughed out loud. How closely connected are joy and +sorrow, comedy and tragedy, in this world. Vernon was striding along, +with a beaming smile upon his handsome features, and his eyes lit up +with merriment, when he came suddenly upon _Iris Harland_. He had +longed and prayed to see her again; he had tried every manœuvre he +could think of to come upon her unawares, but without success, and he +had almost begun to think there was no chance for him. And yet now, +when he was least expecting it, here she was in the second cabin, +seated at the end of the table, with her head bent wearily upon her +hand. In a moment the light had faded from Jack’s face, to give place +to a look of anxious expectation. But he did not hesitate. His chance +was come, and he would take it. He walked straight up to her side. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER III. + +THE WIDOW. + + +‘Miss Hetherley!’ he exclaimed, in a voice that trembled with +nervousness and excitement. ‘Miss Hetherley, will you not speak to me?’ + +Iris was not unprepared for the meeting, although a moment before she +had believed herself to be alone. She had talked the matter over with +Maggie, and they had agreed that it was impossible she could avoid him +for the whole course of the voyage, and that, sooner or later, Vernon +Blythe and she must speak to one another again. Yet what to say to +him, or how to explain her presence on board the _Pandora_, she knew +not, and her first refuge was in an attempt at denial. + +‘I am not Miss Hetherley,’ she answered, in a low voice, and with her +face turned from him. + +‘Forgive me. I know you are married, but I never heard the name of your +husband. How am I to address you?’ + +‘You--you--are mistaken,’ repeated Iris. ‘I am _Miss Douglas_.’ + +Vernon looked down at her for a few moments in silence, his young, +lithe figure drawn up to its full height, as he stood beside her. +She--still drooping over the table, hid her burning face as best she +could from him. + +‘Iris,’ he said presently, ‘why do you want to deceive me?’ + +At that appeal--so tenderly spoken--she broke down, and began to cry. + +‘Oh, don’t do _that_, for Heaven’s sake!’ exclaimed Vernon. ‘If you +wish to avoid me--if my presence is obnoxious to you--say so, and I +will go away, and never come near you again. But don’t cry. It is more +than I can stand. If you are in trouble, let me help you. Am I not your +friend?’ + +‘I have no friends,’ sobbed Iris. + +‘_No friends!_’ he echoed reproachfully. ‘Have you then quite forgotten +Dunmow, and the Bridge of Allan?’ + +Forgotten them. How she wished that she could forget them. As Vernon +spoke, a vision rose before her of the heather-covered hills, the +rippling burns, the blue, misty sky of far-off Scotland, where she had +first met him, and, above them all, the earnest, pleading, passionate +young face that had implored her to exchange her heart for his. How +often she had thought of it since. How often had the memory of his +eyes, swimming in a mist of unshed tears, come between her and the +disappointment of her married life. How often, when the scales had +fallen from her own vision, and the man she had believed to be a god +had proved to be the commonest of clay, had Iris Harland not wished +she had been a little less hasty, and taken time to weigh the several +merits of the men who had asked to link their lot with hers. And as +Vernon’s soft voice, sounding so different when he spoke to her from +what it did when he spoke to others, fell on her ear, it brought the +past so vividly before her, she could not stay her tears. + +‘Have you quite forgotten?’ he repeated. ‘When you crushed the best +hope of my life, Iris, you left me one consolation--you promised +to remain my friend. But that promise is still unredeemed. I heard +that you were married, but nothing more. I have never forgotten you, +but I had no hope we should meet again. Now that it has happened so +unexpectedly, I find you alone--in trouble--and in a position utterly +unfitted for you. Won’t you fulfil your old promise now? Won’t you let +me be your friend, and help you as far as lies in my power? Where is +your husband?’ + +‘I have no husband,’ she answered, blushing furiously. + +‘No husband!’ cried Vernon. ‘Was it a mistake then? Have you never been +married?’ + +Iris nodded her head. + +‘And he is dead?’ + +The girl started. She had never thought of this solution to the +difficulty. Of course she would pass herself off as a widow. Nothing +could be easier. The anxious expression in a great measure left her +face as it occurred to her. She did not foresee the dilemma it might +create for them both. + +‘Yes,’ she answered, almost eagerly, ‘he is dead. I am alone.’ + +‘And your father, is he gone too?’ + +‘Yes, thank God. I mean that it would have broken his heart to see the +trouble I have gone through.’ + +‘Then you have known trouble, poor child, as well as I?’ + +‘Yes,’ she said, shivering; ‘plenty! Please don’t speak of it.’ + +‘And why are you going out to New Zealand? Have you friends there? What +do you expect to do?’ + +‘I don’t know.’ + +‘But, good heavens! you cannot land in a strange country without a +protector, or a home to go to--without any plans, or visible means of +subsistence. Miss Hetherley, forgive me, but--’ + +‘Pray--_pray_ don’t call me by that name,’ she interposed fearfully. +‘You don’t know--there might be people on board--you never can tell.’ + +‘Miss Douglas, then; but how can I address you by a name that is not +yours? I shall be constantly forgetting. Let me call you _Iris_. I +would not be presumptuous, but I have thought and dreamt of you by that +name ever since we parted. May I call you so now?’ + +‘As you will, Mr Blythe.’ + +‘Then, Iris, tell me all your troubles.’ + +‘Oh, I cannot!’ she said, shrinking backward. ‘You do not know.’ + +‘But I cannot help guessing. I guess, from finding you here, that you +are not rich. I guess, from the few words you have uttered, that you +are lonely and unhappy. I can see for myself that you are ill. Iris! +can I be your friend and stand by in silence and make no effort to help +you? Let me speak to you openly once more. It is five years since we +parted, but not a feeling of my heart has changed since then. Cannot +you trust me to be true and faithful to your interests now? I have had +very little consolation during those five years. You denied me the +greatest happiness of my life, and I submitted to your decree. But you +can in a measure console me now. Confide your troubles to me, and let +me help to bear them with you. How long have you been a widow?’ + +‘Oh, a long time! I never really had a husband. I was widowed from the +commencement.’ + +‘Poor child! I couldn’t have turned out a worse “spec.” myself. And +where have you been living since?’ + +‘In London!’ + +‘Why did you leave it?’ + +‘Oh, Mr Blythe, don’t ask me so many questions! It is the fear of your +doing so that has made me avoid you hitherto. If we are to be friends, +learn to spare me. I _cannot_ speak of the past.’ + +‘Will you speak of the future, then?’ + +‘Yes! when the time comes, perhaps. But it is no use discussing it in +the present. It may never come to pass. We may not reach land. I wish +to God I were not to do so! I would like to throw myself overboard at +once, and make an end to all things.’ + +Vernon Blythe looked very grave. This expression of despair on the +part of the woman he would have died to save, cut him to the quick. +There sat his ideal,--the creature who had spoiled the best part of his +life,--whom he had dreamed of, longed for, and yearned after for five +long years out of five-and-twenty. There she sat, side by side with him +again--free--friendless--almost, as it were, at his mercy--and yet he +felt as far from her as ever. As those last passionate words burst from +Iris’s lips, he rose to his feet. + +‘I am worrying you,’ he said gently; ‘I won’t stay here any longer. But +whatever may be your trouble, Iris, whether it arises from loss, or +poverty, or--or--anything else--don’t be afraid to ask my assistance or +advice. Remember, I am your friend: and I have the best right of all +men to be so, because I--’ + +But here he stopped short, fearful of offending her, and the conscious +blood dyed his fair face crimson. + +‘What were you going to say?’ demanded Iris presently. + +‘What perhaps I had better leave unsaid. But you are a woman, and do +not need words to make you understand. You have but to think of the +Bridge of Allan, to know _why_ I have good right to be your friend.’ + +‘You will not speak of me to--to any one else on board?’ she said +anxiously, as she laid her hand upon his arm. + +Vernon looked down at the fair white hand lying so lightly on the blue +sleeve of his uniform, and trembled with pleasurable excitement. How he +longed to raise it to his lips. But he resisted the temptation. + +‘Of course not. Do you think I go about making my most sacred feelings +public property? Your name has never passed my lips to a soul since the +day we parted. + +‘Did you care for me like _that_?’ said Iris, opening her lovely hazel +eyes. + +‘I cared for you--_like my soul_!’ he answered, in a low voice. + +There was silence between them for a few minutes after that, and then +he resumed, in a lighter tone,-- + +‘Why do you seclude yourself so much in this dark cabin? No wonder you +look pale and drooping,--like a broken flower. You should come more on +deck. I have looked for you again and again there in vain. I thought +you were determined not to speak to me during the whole voyage.’ + +‘I am afraid--’ commenced Iris nervously. + +‘Afraid of what?’ + +‘Oh, I don’t know. Some one on board might recognise me--and I would +rather not. I don’t wish any one to know.’ + +‘Have you seen the list of passengers?’ + +‘Yes,’ she said, with a shudder. + +The young officer noticed the shudder. + +‘Well, then, come on the quarter-deck at night, and no one will see +you, especially if you put on a veil. But do come! You will be ill if +you remain here. And then when it is not my watch I shall be able to +sit by you and talk to you and cheer you up. Will you promise to come?’ + +‘Yes. I will go with Maggie to-night, if I am well enough.’ + +‘And I will leave you now, because you have had enough of me, and the +passengers are coming down to their dinner.’ + +He took her slender hand within his own. + +‘God bless you, Iris! Remember, you are not friendless any longer.’ + +For the first time, then, she raised her eyes and looked well at him. +His were regarding her steadfastly. Over his manly features a great +veil of tenderness seemed to have drawn itself, and his sensitive +mouth was quivering with emotion. He was looking at her as we gaze at +a wounded animal, or a dying infant, with infinite compassion, and +a strong desire to relieve and protect. And at that moment, how Iris +longed for his protection. + +‘Oh, you are _good_!’ she cried suddenly. ‘I am not afraid of you. I +will trust you, and some day I will tell you _all_!’ + +‘You have made me happier than I can say,’ replied Vernon, as he laid a +reverent kiss upon her hand, and turned away. + +As he found himself on deck again, he could have sung aloud for joy. +The desire of his heart was accomplished! He had found her again--she +would allow him to befriend her--above all, she was _free_! This secret +love of his life, whom he had believed lost to him for ever, was +actually by his side, and at liberty to be wooed, and perhaps won! + +His pulses galloped as he thought of it. His brain whirled. He was +capable of committing any extravagance. His mind ran riot, and sped +away to the time when he should again tell Iris that he loved her, and +hear her lips confess that he had won her at last. Oh! if the chance +ever presented itself, he would never, _never_ let her go until she had +promised to reward his patient love by becoming his wife. + +And just as he thought this, and sprang up the companion, he came face +to face with Alice Leyton! + +‘Hullo, Jack!’ she exclaimed, ‘what have you been doing to yourself? +Your face is as red as a turkey cock!’ + +‘I think I might return the compliment,’ he said, as he watched her +blushing cheeks. ‘But I can’t stay, Alice, I have some duty to attend +to.’ + +‘You _must_ stay!’ cried the young lady imperiously. ‘I have something +to say to you. I’ve been making love to the captain--_awful_ love. Now, +don’t get jealous, Jack.’ + +‘If I did _that_ every time you flirted with another fellow, Alice, I +might play Blue Beard all day long,’ remarked her lover. + +‘But this was absolutely necessary--I was martyred in a good cause,’ +resumed Miss Leyton. ‘I wanted to get his leave for us to have private +theatricals on board, and the dear old thing has given it without a +demur.’ + +‘You _have_ worked wonders then. We have always considered the skipper +too pious to countenance any such frivolity.’ + +‘Well, he wasn’t too pious with me, I can tell you; and he has promised +to come and see me act into the bargain.’ + +‘So you are coming out as a leading lady, eh, Alice?’ + +‘Of course; you didn’t suppose I should take all that trouble for +somebody else, did you? Miss Vere says she will help us. I and Captain +Lovell, and Miss Vansittart and Mr Harland, will all take a part. And +_you_ too. You will play my lover, won’t you, Jack?’ + +‘No, Alice, I think not, thank you. You have so many lovers, real and +imaginary, that one more or less can make no difference; and private +theatricals are not in my line.’ + +‘Oh, you disagreeable old thing! It’s most horrid of you to leave me to +be made love to by a lot of strange gentlemen. They’ll have to kiss me, +remember, if it’s in the piece.’ + +‘You won’t let them, unless you like it; I am sure of that,’ replied +Jack, swinging himself on to the poop, and proceeding on his way. + +‘You’re a wretch!’ called out Alice after him, but he only laughed in +return; yet his spirits had suddenly gone down to zero. What had he +been thinking of and dreaming of when he encountered her? What a fool +he was to forget for a moment that he was bound to Alice Leyton, and +could not in honour marry any other woman. Of what folly had he not +been guilty? His heart sank under the conviction, but he pulled himself +together like a man, and tried hard to stamp down his disappointment. +After all, he could be Iris’s friend. She had said so with her own +sweet lips, and her faithful friend he was determined to prove, until +death came to separate them. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER IV. + +ON THE POOP DECK. + + +No one on board the _Pandora_ was a greater favourite than Alice +Leyton. She was pretty and lively and clever, and she was reported +to be rich. On first starting, she had confided the secret of her +engagement to Vernon Blythe to several of the lady passengers, and, +as is usual in such cases, the news had leaked out, until it was the +property of the whole vessel. When she found that it was so, Alice +became shy of its being alluded to, and on more than one occasion +had denied it point blank, so that people did not really know what +to believe about it. And the girl had not been in such good spirits +lately. She laughed and talked enough when on deck or in the saloon, +and she ‘chaffed’ Jack Blythe so unmercifully whenever they met, that +he had become rather weary of her presence. But when she found herself +alone or unobserved, Alice’s face told a very different tale. Even +the baby, little Winnie, who shared her cabin, had more than once +been wakened from sleep by her sister’s sobbing, and wondered in her +childish way if ‘Ally’s pain was very bad,’ to make her ‘cry so hard?’ +Indeed Alice Leyton’s conduct at this period resembled nothing so +much as an April day, with its alternate sun and showers. Her tears +might flow fast at night, but she would appear on deck next morning, +radiant with smiles, and her mother was the only person who noticed +that she looked a little care-worn, and that the lines under her blue +eyes were a shade darker than was natural. Mrs Leyton noticed another +thing--that her daughter no longer made the strenuous efforts she used +to do to secure a _tête-à-tête_ with her lover, Jack Blythe, but seemed +quite contented with the somewhat formal greetings they were obliged +to exchange in public, whilst she spent hour after hour in the company +of Captain Lovell. But she did not mention the subject to Alice. She +preferred the girl should settle her love affairs in her own way. The +truth is, Mrs Leyton had never felt quite easy as to what her husband +would say when she told him she had allowed their eldest daughter to +consider herself engaged to be married before consulting him. She was a +great invalid herself. She had come to England before Winnie’s birth to +secure better medical advice than she was able to get in New Zealand, +and it had not been considered safe for her to return home until now. +Alice had been, therefore, from the age of fourteen to eighteen, under +her mother’s exclusive care, and Mrs Leyton often wished she had not +allowed her to drift into this quasi-engagement with Vernon Blythe. +Her husband was a wealthy man, the owner of a large sheep-run on the +Hurannie, and was likely to expect his daughters to contract marriages +in accordance with the settlements he was able to make upon them. Mrs +Leyton felt sure that of the two suitors for Alice’s hand, her husband +would prefer Captain Lovell, who had retired from the service, and +was going out to settle in New Zealand, and so she determined to let +matters take their course. She liked and admired Vernon Blythe, but +he had no money beyond his pay, and nothing but his good looks and +gentlemanly manners to recommend him for a husband. Alice, on the +other hand, was in a very unhappy frame of mind. She wished her mother +would broach the subject, and ask for her confidence, or that Jack +would grow jealous of her flirtation with Lovell, and so bring about +an explanation, but neither of them made any sign. She felt guiltily +happy in the presence of the fascinating captain, and basely false and +fickle with regard to Jack; and if he held her to her engagement, she +felt that she must marry him, and so she was miserable all round. For +she knew now that she had never really loved Vernon Blythe. It was a +folly--an infatuation. He was so handsome, so graceful,--so courteous +in his manners towards her, and all the sex. But he had never looked +at her as Captain Lovell looked. She had never heard his voice tremble +while he addressed her, nor lowered to such a whisper that no one but +herself could understand what he said. Jack was the first man who had +ever made her heart beat a little quicker. He had always been lively +and _debonnair_ with her, and paid her compliments and brought her such +trifles as his slender purse could afford, and she had mistaken her +girlish pleasure over a sentimental friendship as an indication of the +master passion. + +But poor Alice knew the difference now, and the knowledge made her +miserable, as it does most of us. + +The _Pandora_, with the aid of the trades, was still forging ahead, but +day by day as she approached the Antarctic latitudes, it was growing +colder, and the Southern Cross was plainly visible at night. Yet the +hours passed but slowly, and had it not been for the anticipated +private theatricals, the passengers would have had but little to talk +about. + +They were all assembled one morning on the poop. Alice and Captain +Lovell were standing close together, talking to Miss Vere about their +proposed amusement, and the conversation naturally led on to the +subject of her profession. + +‘By Jove! deucedly jolly, Miss Vere, you know, to be on the stage; +isn’t it now, eh?’ lisped Harold Greenwood, who was once more in the +full glory of pink ties and white waistcoats, and had his glass well +screwed into his eye. + +‘Have you tried it, Mr Greenwood?’ + +‘Well, not exactly, you know. But I might have, if I had chosen. I +was offered a large salary once--a _tremendous_ salary, I was told it +was--to appear as “Romeo.” The manager said I was just the face and +figure for “Romeo,” you know. “Oh that I wath a glove upon that cheek,” +and all that sort of thing, eh? I’d like doosidly to play “Romeo” to +your “Juliet,” Miss Vere, do you know? You _have_ played “Juliet,” +haven’t you, eh?’ + +‘Sometimes,’ replied the actress quietly. + +‘Oh, I am _sure_ you have. You’d be an ideal Juliet, you know. I fancy +I can hear you saying to me, “Oh, Womeo, Womeo! wherefore art thou, +Womeo?”’ exclaimed Mr Greenwood, lisping rather worse than usual, in +his excitement. But he was quite offended when every one joined in a +loud laugh. + +‘Oh, you must excuse us, really, Mr Greenwood!’ exclaimed Miss Vere, +wiping her eyes, ‘but you _are_ so funny. I should like to play +“Juliet” with you excessively. I assure you I should.’ + +‘_Do_, then,’ cried Harold Greenwood, taking it all in earnest; ‘let us +have “Romeo and Juliet” instead of this stupid comedy, and I shall have +the bliss (if for only one night) of pwetending you are mine, don’t you +know?’ + +‘I am afraid it would take too much of our time,’ replied Miss Vere, +with mock seriousness. ‘You do not know the many years of hard study +that I was obliged to go through, before I dared attempt the part of +Juliet.’ + +‘But I thought you had only been for a few years on the stage,’ +remarked Captain Lovell. + +‘Oh, no! indeed you are mistaken. For the last five years I have +been on the London boards, but I struggled for thirteen years in the +provinces before I could command an appearance in town.’ + +‘Do you mean to say you have been eighteen years on the stage, Miss +Vere?’ said Alice incredulously. ‘You must have appeared when you were +very young.’ + +‘I was ten years old when I made my _débût_. My father was an actor +at the Grecian Theatre, and as soon as I was old enough to speak my +lines correctly, he procured me my first engagement in the pantomime of +“Goody Two Shoes.”’ + +‘By Jove! I should like to play in a pantomime, Miss Vere, don’t you +know?’ drawled Harold Greenwood; ‘it must be very jolly to make-believe +to be a cat, or a dog, eh?’ + +‘Or a monkey, Mr Greenwood. No, I don’t think you would care about it. +You would soon want to cancel your engagement. It is all noise and +nonsense and make-up.’ + +‘Mr Greenwood is so clever, I don’t think he would have much trouble +to make-up--as a monkey,’ remarked Captain Lovell dryly. + +Miss Vere frowned, and bit her lip. + +‘A pantomime is all very nice from the front,’ she continued; ‘but when +you are obliged to listen to the same music night after night, to hear +the same lines spoken, the same “gags” used, you soon get sick and +tired of it all. However, I owe so much to my burlesque training, that +I never regret I went through it.’ + +‘But how could it do _you_ any good?’ demanded Alice Leyton. + +‘It taught me to use my arms and legs, my dear, and cured me of +many bad habits, such as not being able to stand still, or to speak +distinctly. There are very few of our best-known artists who have not +played in pantomime or burlesque, and some of our leading ladies have +commenced their career in the ballet.’ + +‘But there are many actresses who play leading parts all at once, don’t +you know,’ said Harold Greenwood. ‘I know a young lady who acted +“Juliet” on her first appearance, at a _matinée_. What do you say to +that, Miss Vere, eh?’ + +‘I say she may have _attempted_ the part, but I am quite sure she never +_acted_ it as it should be done. “Juliet” is at once the most beautiful +and most difficult of Shakespeare’s creations, and in the hands of a +novice it becomes a burlesque.’ + +‘But she had heaps of bouquets, you know,’ argued Mr Greenwood: ‘the +stage was quite covered with them.’ + +‘Flowers do not denote a success now-a-days,’ replied Miss Vere, ‘and +to an amateur they become a very empty compliment. If your lady friend +wished to gratify her vanity, and prove how well she looked in antique +dresses, she might have found a less ridiculous and expensive way of +doing it. You may think I am a little hard, perhaps,’ she added, ‘but I +confess I _am_ severe on those amateurs, who have done so much towards +lowering the _prestige_ of one of the most noble professions in the +world.’ + +‘Oh, Miss Vere, you make us feel so small!’ cried Alice. ‘I shall never +dare attempt the part of “Julia,” after what you have said.’ + +‘My dear girl, what nonsense! My remarks were never meant to apply to +our projected amusement. You will certainly take “Julia,” and make a +very charming “Julia” into the bargain; and I am sure Captain Lovell +will make a “Faulkner” to match. + +The captain bowed. + +‘If I could only have been the lover of “Lydia Languish,”’ he said. + +‘Go along, you humbug!’ cried the actress merrily; ‘you know that +“Faulkner” will become twice as natural an impersonation in your +hands. Indeed, I think you will have to moderate your dramatic ardour +a little, or we shall have a certain young gentleman in uniform +interrupting the rehearsals--eh, Miss Leyton?’ + +‘I don’t know what you’re alluding to,’ said Alice, with a vivid blush. + +‘It must be something to do with the temperature of these latitudes,’ +observed Miss Vere meaningly, ‘but I observe that the further south we +go, the harder Miss Leyton finds it to understand any of my hints.’ + +‘Now you are growing abusive, so I shall run away,’ replied Alice +merrily, as she turned to the after-part of the vessel. + +Captain Lovell raised his hat to Miss Vere, and followed her. + +‘Oh! are _you_ here?’ she said, with well-affected surprise, as having +ensconced herself by the wheel-house, she found the captain seated by +her side. + +‘Yes! Am I intruding?’ demanded Lovell. + +‘Oh, no! of course not; besides, the wheel-house does not belong to +me. Only I wish--’ said the girl, looking down--‘I _do_ wish people +wouldn’t be disagreeable, and talk so.’ + +‘I wouldn’t mind their talking, if it wasn’t true,’ remarked Lovell; +‘but I cannot help understanding Miss Vere’s allusions, and I suppose +they mean that you’re engaged to be married to Mr Blythe. Is that the +case, Miss Leyton?’ + +‘Well, not exactly.’ + +‘Is it only her nonsense?’ + +‘Not exactly,’ she repeated, growing more confused. + +‘Do tell me the truth, then! You don’t know how much it means to me.’ + +‘We--that is, Mr Blythe and I--have talked of such a thing, but mother +doesn’t think that father will ever give his consent to it.’ + +‘And do you wish him to do so, Miss Leyton? Does your happiness depend +on it?’ + +‘I am not quite sure.’ + +‘But if you cared for Blythe, you _would_ be quite sure. You could have +no doubt upon the subject.’ + +‘He is fond of me,’ said Alice. + +‘There is nothing wonderful in that. Plenty of people must be fond of +you. The question is, _Are you fond of him?_’ + +‘I don’t think you should ask me such a question, Captain Lovell.’ + +‘Forgive me if I have said too much. I would not offend you for the +world. But--but--I am very unhappy about it!’ + +‘So am I,’ whispered Alice. + +‘If that is the case,’ exclaimed the captain, seizing her hand, ‘come +to some understanding about it at once! Speak to Mrs Leyton and Mr +Blythe on the subject, and let me know the worst. For this suspense is +intolerable, Alice: it is killing me by inches.’ + +‘Hush!’ said Alice quickly, withdrawing her hand; ‘be quiet, for +goodness’ sake, Captain Lovell. Here is Jack.’ + +And indeed at that very moment Vernon Blythe appeared round the +wheel-house, whistling as he went. He smiled pleasantly as he came +in sight of Alice, and took no notice whatever of her crimson face +and flurried manner. He nodded to Captain Lovell, who was confusedly +striking a fusee on the heel of his boot, in order to light a cigar, +and remarking, ‘Lucky fellow, to be able to smoke when you choose. I +wish my time had come,’ turned away as light-heartedly as if it had +been some other man’s betrothed whom he had detected in a flirtation +behind the wheel-house. + +‘Did he see us, do you think?’ asked Alice fearfully of her companion, +as Jack disappeared. + +‘Well, I really think he must have _seen_ us,’ replied the captain +deliberately, ‘for we are both full size, you know! But he appeared +very pleasant about it.’ + +‘Oh, dear!’ exclaimed Alice, ‘I hope he did _not_ see us.’ + +‘You are afraid of him, then?’ remarked Lovell. + +‘No, not afraid, only--he would think so badly of me.’ + +‘And you wish him to think well of you.’ + +‘Oh, I don’t know _what_ I wish,’ cried the girl, in a voice that was +very suspicious of tears. + +The passengers had retreated below. There was no one but themselves on +deck, except, indeed, Mr Coffin, whose back was turned to them, and +the man at the wheel, who was shut up in his box, and could only look +straight before him. + +‘Shall I tell you what _I_ wish,’ whispered Captain Lovell, as his arm +stole round her waist; ‘_I_ have no doubt upon the matter, Alice.’ + +‘No! no! I cannot hear--I do not want to hear!’ exclaimed the girl +nervously, as she jumped up from her seat and ran down to the saloon, +leaving the captain to finish the flirtation by himself. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER V. + +THE GLASS FALLS. + + +Three days after the events related in the last chapter, the trade +winds, which had escorted the _Pandora_ so well on her passage, died +away, and left the vessel in a dead calm, till a snorting southerly +breeze came over the ocean, and sent her careering along at her best +pace. + +The wind which rattled through the rigging was cold and chilly, and +made the ladies unpack their furs, and huddle round the stove. Few +patronised the deck--the air was too keen and searching. It was a +marvellous change from the sultry weather of the week before, when +Alice Leyton had sat with Captain Lovell under the wheel-house, and +most of the passengers felt it acutely. + +A huge purple bank, lined with silver, had risen upon the beam, and the +sun assumed a watery and unnatural appearance. + +Mr Coffin, indifferent to everything but the welfare of the vessel, +kept a look-out upon the poop, anxiously watching at intervals the +ominous-looking cloud, which was gradually growing larger. With his cap +drawn down closely over his eyes, his thick, bull-dog neck encircled by +a red worsted muffler, a big quid stuck in his cheeks, and his rough, +broad hands embedded in his trousers pockets, he was the model of a +British seaman. + +But he was by no means morose or ill-tempered. Exceedingly shy and +reserved, from ignorance of the ways and manners of society, he +seldom commenced a conversation, but if any of the passengers were +bold enough to speak to him, they found him unpolished, but kindly in +disposition. Under his weather-beaten exterior he hid a warm, good +heart, for Mr Coffin had a soul of honour, and a mean or cowardly +action would have been utterly beneath him. + +‘Good-morning; nice day this, isn’t it?’ remarked Godfrey Harland. + +‘Yes, sir,’ replied the chief officer; ‘but I am afraid we are going to +have a blow. I don’t like the looks of it.’ + +‘It looks dirty to windward, I must say. Do you think there is mischief +in that bank?’ + +‘I am sure there is,’ said Coffin; ‘we shall have to shorten down +before daybreak, but it won’t be much. The glass is falling, too, sir, +and perhaps you know the old saying,--’ + + “When the glass falls low, prepare for a blow, + When the glass rises high, let all your kites fly.” + +But we shall be prepared. I have the hands up at the fore and main +reefing the tackles and spilling lines, and the chain tacks and double +sheets are on.’ + +‘What are they doing to your main-topgallant parcell?’ inquired Harland, +looking up aloft at the sailors at work. + +‘Well, they are lacing on some new leather parcelling,’ replied the +mate solemnly, stroking his chin. ‘The old stuff don’t let the yard +travel quick enough for my liking. But, if I’m not very much mistaken, +this is not your first voyage, sir,’ he continued, fixing his keen eyes +upon Harland’s face. + +‘Oh, no,’ replied the other lightly; ‘I have often been on the briny. I +owned a yacht in New York once--an eighty-tonner--and all my nautical +knowledge was learned aboard her.’ + +‘Was she square-rigged,’ asked Mr Coffin indifferently. + +‘No; fore and aft. As nice a little craft as ever you saw, and, by the +holy poker, she could sail too. There were few to beat her.’ + +‘How do you come, then, to know about main-topgallant parcells, if she +wasn’t square-rigged?’ demanded the chief officer, looking full at him. + +Harland felt he was caught in his own trap. He had foolishly +acknowledged that the only vessel he had sailed in was a moderate-sized +yacht, which could have been stowed away, with twenty others, in the +_Pandora’s_ hold, and that all his sea knowledge was gained aboard of +her. How, then, could he possibly know the names, and understand the +use, of gear which was never seen on such small craft? + +After spluttering out an unintelligible excuse, he attempted to smooth +the matter over by inviting his companion to join him in a glass of +grog. But the old sea-dog gruffly refused his offer, and turning away, +with a mysterious ‘Humph,’ sent a long squirt of red tobacco juice +straight into the stern sheets of the lifeboat. When Harland noticed +his altered manner, he sidled away under the lee of the pilot-house, +whilst Mr Coffin, after scanning the horizon and satisfying himself +that there was nothing in sight, leaned against the taffrail, and +thought to himself that--‘Mr Harland was a darned sight too deep for +most people, but he had taken him flat aback that time.’ + +At mid-day the captain shot the sun--a feat which Mr Horace Greenwood +came up on deck expressly to see, and was much disappointed when +Jack Blythe informed him he was just a minute too late; and by that +time the wind had increased a little, blowing from south-west to +south-south-west in sudden gusts, and the fore and mizen royals, and +the smaller stay sails were made fast. + +Alice Leyton, in a dark brown travelling ulster, and a felt hat trimmed +with a dainty tuft of feathers, which blew about with the wind, and +mingled with her sunny curls, had left the close saloon for the open +air, and now stood leaning against the wheel-house, holding on her +hat with one hand, whilst the breeze caught her skirts and wound them +tightly round her supple figure. + +‘Why, Alice,’ exclaimed Jack, as he came up to her, ‘what a brave girl +you are to venture on deck! But don’t be blown away. We can’t spare you +yet, you know,’ and he passed his arm round her waist to steady her as +he spoke. + +Alice shrank palpably from his embrace. + +‘Don’t, Jack, please. I can stand very well by myself, and some one may +be looking.’ + +‘No one is looking, my dear, and if they were, nothing could be more +natural than for me to proffer my assistance to a young female in +distress on such a windy day.’ + +‘I’m not in distress,’ replied Alice, half ready to cry at the +situation. + +‘Oh, yes, you are. You don’t know what a south-wester is yet. Your +petticoats will be over your head in another minute.’ + +‘Oh,’ cried the girl involuntarily, as her hand left her hat to travel +down to her skirts. ‘Jack, let me go back to the saloon at once. I +don’t want to stay here any longer.’ + +‘Indeed I won’t. I see you very seldom now, and I mean to make the +most of the opportunity. How long is it since you kissed me? At least +three weeks. Don’t you think if you brought your face a little nearer +this way, you wouldn’t feel the wind so much? Your cheeks are getting +positively crimson with it. You’d better take advantage of my offer, +and shelter under my lee.’ + +‘No, no!’ exclaimed Alice, half in fun and half in earnest, ‘I don’t +want to kiss you, Jack. I can manage much better by myself.’ + +‘Or with the help of Captain Lovell,’ he answered. ‘Isn’t that true, +Alice? It isn’t the help that’s disagreeable to you, it’s the helper.’ + +‘Oh, Jack, how can you say such a thing, when we’ve known each other +for so long?’ + +‘Perhaps we’ve known each other _too_ long, and have come to know each +other too well, Alice. However, I won’t tease you. I’ve often refused +your kisses, so it’s only fair you should have the option of refusing +mine now and then. And I suppose you’re tired of them. It’s no wonder.’ + +Alice did not know what to say. She longed to tell him the truth, but +she dared not. She was too fond of him to care to see his bright face +clouded by disappointment, and yet she knew now that she could never +marry him. Oh dear, she sighed to herself, what should she do? + +‘Jack,’ she commenced timidly, ‘I think you’d soon be sick of me. I +don’t think I’m a very nice girl. In fact, I’m _sure_ I’m not. And I +shall make a worse wife. I’ve almost made up my mind never to marry at +all.’ + +Jack burst out laughing. He had known it would come to this at last. He +had watched the confession drawing nearer day by day. And he was not +sorry for it. Only he determined that Alice should not have it all her +own way. He must have some fun out of her first. + +‘What are you talking about?’ he replied, with affected earnestness. +‘You are a great deal too modest, my darling. You’ll make the very best +and sweetest wife in all the world. _I’m_ the proper judge of that. +Besides, don’t forget that you are pledged to me, and no power on earth +will make me release you from your promise.’ + +Alice sighed audibly, and looked over the sea. + +‘But would it be right, Jack,’ she said presently, ‘for me to marry, if +I knew I could not fulfil the duties of a wife?’ + +‘Much you know about the duties of a wife!’ exclaimed Jack merrily. +‘You can fulfil all _I_ shall require from you: I’ll take my oath of +that.’ + +‘Mother says,’ continued Alice solemnly, ‘that I am utterly unfit for +any of the graver requirements of life, and that when my father sees +how frivolous and pleasure-seeking I am, he is sure to refuse his +consent to my leaving home.’ + +‘Ah! I can guess now what has brought this serious fit upon you, Alice. +Your mother has been frightening you with regard to what Mr Leyton may +say to our engagement. But don’t you be afraid, dear. If he should make +my position an objection to our immediate marriage, I’ll leave you in +his care till I shall have attained higher rank and better pay. And, +meanwhile, you can be learning your duties as a wife,’ said Jack slyly. + +‘How can I learn with no one to teach me?’ replied Alice sharply. +‘Besides, Jack, it may be years and years before you get promotion! Am +I to be an old maid all that time?’ + +‘Why, I thought you were never going to marry at all just now,’ said +her lover. ‘You are only just eighteen, Alice. Surely a few years--say +till you’re five-and-twenty--would not be too long to wait for such +happiness as ours will be? It isn’t as if you were going to marry +Captain Lovell, you know, or some common-place fellow of that sort. I +will serve for you as Jacob did for Rachel, and if I can wait seven +years for you, surely you will do no less for me, eh?’ + +‘Oh, no! of course not,’ replied the girl, who had the greatest +difficulty to keep the tears back from her eyes. ‘But--but I think I’d +rather go down to the saloon, Jack, this wind is so horribly strong it +makes my eyes water.’ + +‘All right, if you wish it, but I must tow you safely to the door,’ +replied Jack, as he took her across the deck and saw her disappear in +the depths of the saloon cabin, without speaking another word to him. + +‘Poor little girl,’ he thought, as he turned laughing away, ‘she’s +terribly puzzled to know what to say to me. She would have liked to +scratch out my eyes for that remark about Lovell, only she didn’t dare. +Well, it’ll come out sooner or later, but it’s not my business to help +her make the confession. If she gives me up of her own free will, I +shall thank God. But if this is only a passing fancy on her part or +_his_, I must go through with it.’ And Vernon Blythe sighed as heavily +at the prospect as Alice Leyton had done, as he went to his work. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VI. + +TO THE RESCUE. + + +Alice flew into the saloon, with her eyes brimful of tears, and the +first person she encountered was Captain Lovell, who regarded her with +looks of the utmost concern. He was a handsome man, in the ordinary +acceptation of the term, of about thirty, the sort of man to catch the +fancy of a woman who loved her lover’s face before his spirit, but +there was no soul in the expression of his face, and no sentiment in +his disposition. Any other girl would probably have done as well for +him as Alice Leyton, had he been thrown in her society for several +weeks consecutively, but on the other hand Alice would do as well for +him as any other woman, and was happily of a temperament that would +never arrive at a knowledge of the truth. At present, she thought +Robert Lovell delightful. He never corrected her, as Jack too often +did. He was never _distrait_ when she chattered to him, or wrapped in +his own thoughts. He never gazed dreamily at the stars, or made remarks +that were utterly beyond her comprehension. And so she quite imagined +she was in love, and so, perhaps, she was. As Captain Lovell saw her +tear-stained cheeks, he begged her confidence. + +‘What is the matter, Miss Leyton? Has any one dared to annoy you?’ + +‘Oh, no! It is nothing. Only--only--Mr Blythe teases me so. He says--’ + +‘I can guess it all. You need go no further. He presses you on the +subject of your engagement to him.’ + +‘Yes. He says he will never release me,’ replied Alice, checking a sob. + +‘Alice! we must put an end to this at once. It is worrying you too +much. May I speak to your mother, dearest? Have I your leave to say +that we love each other, and ask her to consent to our marriage?’ + +‘If--if--she won’t tell Jack,’ whispered Alice fearfully. ‘I should be +afraid to be on the same ship with him, if he knew.’ + +‘My darling! Do you suppose you are not safe with _me_?--that any one +would be permitted to hurt you, whilst _I_ am by your side? However, +that is a matter for after consideration. May I go now and speak to +your mother?’ + +‘If you wish it,’ replied Alice, as she ran away to the shelter of her +own cabin. + +The afternoon was far advanced, and the wind had freshened into a +loud, continuous blast. + +In the saloon, the passengers of the _Pandora_, now quite accustomed to +her varied pranks, were seated at the long table, amusing themselves +according to their several tastes and proclivities. Some were playing +at cards, chess, or dominoes; others were reading, or trying to write +letters; whilst a few of the younger ones were gathered round the piano +to hear Miss Vere and Miss Vansittart sing. + +All around them the waves tossed and tumbled; the wind howled with a +dismal monotony, like a dog baying at the moon; and the rain hissed +and spluttered on the deck, and against the closed portholes. Now and +then, far above the confusion of the elements, might be heard the +scream of a seagull, as, scared by the rapid approach of the monstrous +waves that threatened to engulf it, it flew in terror from its watery +bed, to describe terrified circles in the murky air. Falling glass, +broken china, and an occasional bump, as the vessel gave a lurch, +and some one who had not quite acquired his sea-legs came down in a +sitting position, were the order of the day, and those passengers who +had secured a comfortable seat felt it was wiser not to leave it. Mrs +Leyton, a fair, soft-looking woman, was stretched out at full length on +one of the saloon sofas, covered with wraps and shawls, and with little +Winnie (her baby) lying fast asleep by her side, as Captain Lovell made +his way up to her. + +‘We are going to have a dreadful night, Captain Lovell, I am afraid,’ +she said, as he paused beside her couch. ‘My poor baby is quite tired +with tumbling about, and has fallen asleep. Do you know where my Alice +is? She said she was going on deck a little while ago, but I’m sure +it is not fit weather for her to be out. She is such a careless, +thoughtless thing. Fancy! if she were blown overboard!’ + +‘Heaven forbid!’ cried Captain Lovell suddenly. ‘But you may feel quite +easy about her. She has just gone to her berth.’ + +‘Ah! I thought she would soon have enough of it; but girls are so +self-willed now-a-days. It is a great responsibility to have a grown-up +daughter. I shall be thankful when Mr Leyton can share it with me. How +terrible the wind sounds as it moans through the shrouds!’ observed Mrs +Leyton, shuddering. + +‘I trust you are not frightened,’ said Captain Lovell. ‘The sound is +the worst part about it.’ + +‘Oh, yes, I know there is no danger; but we women are timid creatures, +and generally behave badly on such occasions.’ + +‘I think Miss Leyton behaves beautifully. Even in that sharp squall +we had the other day, her cheek never blanched, nor did she lose her +spirits.’ + +‘Ah, Alice does not know what fear is. I wish sometimes she had a more +wholesome dread of consequences. But she has always had her own way +with me, and I am quite afraid when we get to Dunedin that my husband +will say I have been too lenient.’ + +‘May I enlist your sympathies on my behalf before you meet Mr Leyton?’ +said the captain, taking a seat beside her. ‘It is of Alice--of Miss +Leyton, I should say--that I wished to speak to you, and she has given +me permission to do so. We love each other, Mrs Leyton. Will you plead +our cause with your husband, and gain his consent to our marriage?’ + +Mrs Leyton sat up on the sofa in her surprise, and little Winnie gave a +fretful cry at being disturbed. + +‘Alice has encouraged you to speak to me, Captain Lovell? But she +considers herself engaged to be married to Mr Vernon Blythe. It is not +a match I could ever approve of, because the young man has no settled +income, but they were much thrown together at Southsea, and settled the +matter between themselves without consulting me. I had no idea that she +had changed her mind. Are you _quite_ sure you are following her wishes +in joining her name to your own?’ + +‘I can only tell you that I asked her permission to address you on +this subject ten minutes ago, and that she gave it me most graciously. +The fact is, Mrs Leyton, Alice has often spoken to me of her +half-engagement to Mr Blythe with deep regret. She declares nothing +will induce her to marry him, and that--God bless her!--she has every +intention of marrying _me_, subject (of course) to the consent of her +parents.’ + +‘Well, I really can’t understand her, and I must decline to have +anything to do with the matter,’ replied Mrs Leyton, lying back again +upon her pillows. ‘I really don’t know what the girls are made of +now-a-days. The scenes Alice subjected me to when she first fell in +love with young Blythe were beyond conception. She was going to die, +or go mad, straight off, if she couldn’t be engaged to him. And so, to +quiet her, I gave a sort of reluctant consent. But I confess I hadn’t +the least idea the young man would come out in the same ship with us. +And now it seems she’s in love with _you_. And what excuse does she +intend to offer Mr Blythe for her conduct?’ + +‘I think Miss Leyton hopes that _you_ may be persuaded to manage so +delicate a matter for her, and let the young gentleman know that she +desires to be released from her engagement to him,’ said Captain Lovell +sheepishly. + +‘I shall do no such thing, sir. Alice must conduct her love affairs +herself. Such a task would be altogether too much for my nerves; for +though I do not consider Vernon Blythe an eligible suitor for my +daughter, I like the young fellow excessively. So if his affections and +his pride are to be wounded through my daughter, she can do it herself. +I refuse to open my lips to him, and I must say I think he has been +treated very badly.’ + +‘My dear Mrs Leyton, do make some allowance for Alice’s feelings. Our +hearts are not completely under our own control, remember. Love is not +to be coerced, like any baser passion.’ + +‘Well, I hope you’ll bear that in mind, Captain Lovell, if you should +ever be my daughter’s husband, and catch her flirting with some other +man. And don’t make too sure she’ll stick to you. A girl that changes +once may change twice. And I don’t know that Mr Leyton will accept your +offer for her more than the other. He’s got no romance about him, and +looks high for his daughter.’ + +‘He could not look _too_ high for such a pearl as Alice. I shall like +him all the better for that,’ replied Captain Lovell. ‘But won’t you +be persuaded to break the news to Mr Blythe for us?’ + +‘No! I absolutely refuse, and it’s no use your asking me,’ returned Mrs +Leyton, who was really fond of Jack. ‘If Alice wishes him to know she’s +a jilt, she can tell him so herself.’ + +‘You are _too_ hard upon her,’ murmured the captain, as he withdrew +from the interview, feeling much less light hearted than he had done +at the commencement. But before the next day was over both he and +Alice had experienced a shock which made their own troubles sink into +insignificance beside it. + +After a tempestuous night, a long white streak far away in the +southward proclaimed the break of dawn. The sky was clear, and the +stars flickered with waning light in the spangled heavens. The gale, +which had blown with great fury during the night, was abating with the +coming of day, and Blythe, who well knew that it would die away as +quickly as it had sprung up, hoisted the topsails as soon as it showed +signs of dropping. The storm clouds were dispersed by the sun, which +tinted the sky with orange and crimson hues, and the moon, paling +beneath the stronger light, disappeared in solemn stateliness behind +her vast curtain of cerulean drapery. The waves still leapt and growled +with impotent rage, but, deserted by the wind and beaten down with the +rain, their energy was almost expended. + +The _Pandora_ laboured against the turbulent sea, like a horse +stumbling over a freshly-ploughed field. At times she took large +spoonfuls over her forechains, greatly to the annoyance of the black +cook, who had continually to clear his scupper holes with a long caul, +and to push away the cinders which choked them up and prevented the +water from escaping. Now and again the vessel dashed on to the top of +a swell, and the sea rushed from her in boiling surf; then she would +rise over a mountainous wave as if about to make another desperate +plunge, till her stern went with a rude swash into the sea, sending +thousands of bubbling whirlpools hissing in her wake, whilst the +shore-folk turned uneasily in their bunks, and wished it were time to +rise. + +At eight bells the main-topgallant sail was sheeted home, and the outer +jib run up. After which the _Pandora_ behaved in a more graceful and +lady-like manner, and when the decks had been ‘squeegeed’ down, all +hands emerged from their close quarters to enjoy the invigorating air, +which the ocean had rendered still more grateful by a flavouring of +brine. + +The day became warmer, the wind hauled round to the northward and +eastward, and the sun, casting off his sickly appearance, shone forth +with a cheerful warmth. + +Alice Leyton, under the escort of Captain Lovell, walked the lee side +of the deck. They were discussing together the details of Lovell’s +interview with Mrs Leyton the evening before, and the girl looked both +unhappy and dismayed, as she heard the remarks her mother had made upon +her conduct. + +Mr Vansittart and Godfrey Harland, who appeared by general consent to +be considered as _fiancé_ to Grace Vansittart, conversed at the foot of +the mizenmast, and a weather cloth was spread in the lower rigging for +the benefit of the ladies, who took advantage of its shelter for their +camp-stools and wicker-chairs. On the wheel-house benches were seated +two or three young officers, who were holding an animated discussion +on the probable advent of a Conservative administration, while Miss +Vere and Mr Fowler, with Harold Greenwood (who had entirely succumbed +to the charms of the fair actress) close at hand, were lounging on the +skylight. + +Suddenly--in the midst of the buzz of conversation and the sound +of laughter--came a low, piteous cry, that seemed to rend the air, +and spread from one end of the ship to the other. Then a long, deep +nautical shout from the maintop bawled out the terrifying words,--‘_Man +overboard!_’ In a moment, the whole deck resembled a disturbed anthill, +and Mr Coffin ran aft to the wheel. + +‘Put your helm a-port, man!’ he cried, seizing the spokes and putting +them down; and then in the same breath he shouted, ‘Cut away that +life-buoy!’ + +When the feeble cry was first heard, Alice and Captain Lovell ran to +the side of the vessel, whence the sound of a sudden splash had caught +their ears. Peering into the water, they saw nothing at first but a +small bundle of clothes, but in another moment a velvet cloak and a +‘granny’ bonnet to match came plainly in view--the cloak and the bonnet +of Winnie Leyton. Alice turned white and sick with horror. + +‘My God!’ she cried, ‘it is our baby! She is drowning! She will die! +Will no one save her? Let me go,’ she continued, struggling violently +in the detaining grasp of Captain Lovell, who feared lest in her agony +she should jump overboard after her sister. + +‘Don’t be afraid, dearest,’ he urged. ‘It will be all right. See! they +are getting out a boat. They will pick her up in a minute. Pray, _pray_ +don’t do anything rash,’ he said, as he attempted to lead her away. + +As she turned, she encountered Jack Blythe, who was already stripped to +his shirt and trousers. + +‘Jack! save her!’ she screamed. + +‘Never fear, Alice! I will bring her back to you,’ he answered. ‘D--n +it, man, stand on one side!’ he shouted to Lovell, as he clutched him +violently, and threw him against the astonished bystanders. + +‘What the d--’ commenced Lovell, but in another second Jack Blythe, +girding up his muscular young figure for the effort, had sprung over +the side of the _Pandora_ to the rescue of Winifred Leyton. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VII. + +FREE. + + +The foreyard was pointed, and the gear of the mainsail hauled up, while +Richard Sparkes, with the aid of five hands, swung the lifeboat into +its davits. On the poop deck there was terrible confusion. The married +ladies crowded round poor Mrs Leyton, who was half swooning from her +anxiety and fear; Alice, refusing all assistance from Captain Lovell or +anybody else, stood with clenched teeth and strained eyeballs watching +the two black specks that bobbed up and down like corks upon the +water; and the rest of the passengers pressed against the taffrail, +talking in loud and excited tones to each other, whilst they watched +the fight for life or death. + +In a few minutes the boat was pushed off, and the sturdy sailors made +the oars bend beneath the weight of their arms. Mr Sparkes held the +tiller, and kept cheering on the men, whilst he eagerly watched the +objects ahead of them. + +What a long, long time it seemed. The boat did not appear to gain a +dozen yards, as it plunged and tossed against the billows. But the +seamen had muscles that had been developed by climbing and hauling. All +their sinews were like springs of steel. Each man, with one foot firmly +planted against the thwart in front of him, lay back upon his oar, +with a long, sweeping, steady English stroke, till his head was nearly +parallel with his companion’s knee--a stretch that would have made a +Dutchman look on with awe, mingled with admiration, and a pull that +sent the boat’s stem through the rollers, cutting them like a knife, +and plumping her down with a heavy bump on the other side. Vernon +Blythe and the child were now fully a mile astern. He had managed to +grasp the life-buoy, which was a good thing for both of them, for poor +little Winnie clung convulsively round his throat, entirely impeding +his swimming, whilst she sobbed and gasped, as she tried to recover her +breath after the nauseous doses of salt water she had swallowed. + +She was a pretty little creature, and just at that age when children +become quaint and interesting. Her brown hair--which curled naturally, +like that of her elder sister--now hung in a wet clinging mass about +her face and shoulders. The gay ‘granny’ bonnet was gone: it had +floated far away to leeward. The velvet cloak still hung tightly about +her, and added considerably to her weight. Her little fat and shapely +legs, enveloped in long Hessian boots, now shuddering and almost stiff +with cold, rested on Jack Blythe’s hips. It was a hard struggle for him +to keep her above water, for the terrified child nearly choked him, +and he was exhausted from swimming in the boisterous, choppy sea, that +kept on breaking in a remorseless lather over his head and face, and +prevented him from breathing freely. + +‘Don’t--cry--baby. There’s--a--boat--coming,’ he gasped; but the little +one did not answer him, except by a heart-rending sob, and a tighter +pressure on his throat. + +Swish--h--h went the lifeboat, as the dripping oars were lifted, +feathered, and dipped again. The shellbacks, in regular time, gave a +muffled deep sigh, as they are wont to do after the tremendous exertion +of a stiff pull. Click-clack went the rollocks, as they shied and +swerved in their sockets--a long whirr-r--the order given ‘_Rowed +all_’--a rumbling noise, as the oars were shipped on the thwarts, and +the baby and her preserver were lifted by strong arms from the embrace +of the treacherous ocean, and hauled safely into the boat. + +‘Now, give way, lads, merrily,’ said Sparkes, as Vernon Blythe seated +himself with the youngster on his knee, and the wiry saltfish, with +a cheer for the second officer, set themselves with renewed vigour +to their task. They had warmed to their work by this time. The +perspiration stood in large beads upon their foreheads, and their +blades went forward in clock-work time. Little Winifred, with her head +resting upon Vernon’s breast, gave vent to plaintive sobs, burying her +face in the wet folds of the young sailor’s shirt, and at intervals +peeping out as the _Pandora_ hove-to in the distance. + +‘Ship--wouldn’t--wait--for baby,’ she said, whimpering, as she glanced +up into Jack’s face. + +‘She will now,’ replied Vernon, smiling; ‘you went too fast for the +poor ship, baby, but she stopped as soon as ever she found you had +tumbled overboard. Poor mite,’ he added kindly, as he kissed her scared +face; ‘it was a narrow shave for you.’ + +‘Brother Jack found me,’ said Winnie, with another little sob. + +Her sister had taught her to call him ‘_brother_’ long ago at Southsea, +and as Vernon heard her now, he smiled almost sadly, to think how +prematurely the appellation had been applied. + +The passengers had crowded at the side of the vessel to watch the +issue of the accident, and saw the drowning child and Vernon lifted +into the lifeboat with the utmost satisfaction. Some of them were +cheering vociferously and waving their pocket handkerchiefs to express +their joy, whilst others were shouting ‘_Bravo!_’ But Vernon Blythe +sat in the stern, heedless of their congratulations. He was thinking +of Winnie’s narrow escape from a watery grave,--of Alice Leyton’s +agonised expression when she appealed to him to save her sister, and +he felt thankful that he had been made the instrument of the little +one’s safety. It seemed as though he had thereby paid part of the +debt he owed to Alice, and found it so difficult to discharge. Each +painful incident he had just undergone passed in rapid confusion +through his mind. He recalled how Alice had been talking by the +fiferail with Captain Lovell, when the cry of ‘_Man overboard!_’ had +been raised, and he had seen the baby quickly floating astern,--how +he had knocked that gentleman into the arms of the bystanders as he +jumped to her rescue,--then the leap from the half-round,--the cold +immersion,--the sight of the majestic vessel as she sailed away from +them,--the piteous crying of little Winnie,--his strenuous efforts to +obtain the life-buoy, with the child clinging to him for dear life, +and the horrible thought that they would both be drowned clasped thus +together. Just as his thoughts had reached their climax, they were +disturbed. Bump went the boat against the iron side, the tackles were +overhauled, and hooked on, and three of the sailors, with the aid of a +line and the mainbrace, clambered on to the deck. Hand-over-hand the +slack was hauled in, and the heads of the crew appeared above the rail. + +Then the order was given to ‘Belay,’ and Vernon Blythe, with the child +still clinging to him, stepped on board again. The quarter-deck was +crowded. Everybody wished to congratulate him, and embrace little +Winnie; a dozen hands were stretched out to grasp his own. But Jack had +no time to attend to anybody. He strode past all the faces that beamed +upon him, until he had reached the side of Mrs Leyton, and placed her +child upon her lap. + +‘Oh, Jack! my dear boy, how shall we ever thank you?’ cried the poor +mother hysterically, as she clasped her baby in her arms. + +‘By saying nothing about it, Mrs Leyton,’ he answered cheerily; ‘you +know I would have done as much for any one of you, twice over.’ + +‘My darling Winnie!’ exclaimed Alice, as she smothered her little +sister’s face in kisses. ‘What should we have done if we had lost you?’ + +‘Brother Jack picked me out of the water,’ said Winnie, who had begun +to realise she was safe, and might leave off crying. + +At that name, Alice blushed scarlet. + +‘Give her to me, mother,’ she said hurriedly; ‘I must change her +clothes at once.’ + +‘Yes, Miss Alice, and put her in a hot bath, and then into bed until +to-morrow morning,’ interposed Dr Lennard, ‘or she will be ill.’ + +‘I will, doctor; come, darling,’ continued Alice, as she seized Winnie +in her arms, and without noticing Jack, or giving him one word of +thanks, passed through the crowd into the cabin passage, and out of +sight. She was too conscience-stricken to be able to trust herself to +thank him for his bravery. But Jack, who had been looking forward to +her expressions of gratitude for the risk he had run on her sister’s +behalf, only thought she under-rated it, and gazed after her in +disappointed silence. + +‘Come, Blythe! how do _you_ feel?’ inquired Dr Lennard, shaking him by +the arm; ‘you must not get sleepy, you know.’ + +‘Oh, I’m all right, doctor, thank you, and none the worse for my swim, +though it was plaguey cold, I can tell you.’ + +‘You must come with me and have a pick-me-up,’ said the doctor. + +‘No, thanks, sir! don’t trouble about me! A good stiff glass of grog +and a change of linen are all I want.’ + +‘Well, go and strip off those wet togs then, my boy, whilst I mix a +steaming jorum for you,’ replied Dr Lennard. ‘You’ve done a good day’s +work, Blythe, and we mustn’t let you suffer for it. Come along at +once,’ and he pulled the young officer away with him. + +When both Jack and the baby had disappeared, and the passengers +had discussed the adventure in all its bearings, their excitement +toned down, and they returned to their usual avocations, whilst the +_Pandora_, with her mainsail set, sailed on at seven knots an hour. + +But in the afternoon, when little Winnie was wrapt in peaceful slumber, +and Jack was on deck attending to his duty, Alice Leyton came up to +him, with flushed cheeks and outstretched hands. + +‘Jack,’ she said (and her voice seemed unaccountably tender to him, +after the somewhat frivolous manner in which she had treated him of +late), ‘we have so much to thank you for, we don’t know how to do it. I +hope you did not think it unkind of me not to come before, but mother +has been quite ill from the shock and the excitement, and there has +been no one to look after baby but myself. It was so courageous--so +brave--so good of you to peril your life for--for--’ + +‘Pray don’t say another word about it, Alice. It was only my duty, and +there was but little danger. Any man in my position would have done the +same.’ + +‘But no man _did_,’ she answered quickly; ‘all the rest stood by like +sheep. The only one beside yourself who rendered the least assistance +was Mr Fowler, who cut away the life-buoy, and threw it overboard.’ + +‘They were not in my position, Alice. Think how long we have been +friends. Do you suppose I could have looked on to see any one whom you +care for drown? I thought you had a better opinion of me than that.’ + +‘I think you are the best and the kindest and the bravest friend I ever +had,’ replied Alice, with a sob in her throat; ‘and if I could only +repay you--but that is impossible--but if I could only show you some +kindness, in return for all you have done for us to-day, I should be so +happy.’ + +‘You _can_ repay me amply,’ said Jack, ‘and that is by being open with +me, Alice. I know that you have something on your mind which you are +unwilling to confide to me. This is not as it should be. Friends in our +position should trust each other _all in all or not at all_. If you +consider that you owe me any return for your sister’s safety, give it +me in your confidence.’ + +‘Oh, Jack! how _shall_ I tell you?’ sobbed Alice. ‘You are so sweet and +good. I admire and I love you so much--and yet--and yet--’ + +‘Shall I try and help you, dear? When baby found herself in my arms, +she whimpered “_Brother Jack picked me up!_” I think _that_ is the name +you would like to call me by, as well as baby. I think you want me to +be “_Brother Jack_” to you.’ + +‘Oh, Vernon! have you _guessed_?’ cried Alice, turning her crimson +face away from him. + +‘That you would be quite ready to accept Lovell’s addresses were you +only freed from mine? Yes, Alice. I have guessed as much as that. Am I +right?’ + +‘But won’t it--won’t it _hurt_ you?’ she whispered. + +‘Not very much. My vanity may suffer a little, but that is wholesome +discipline. And I have feared, too, for some time past, that we were +not _quite_ suited to each other; so you see it will be for the best +after all. Only, Alice, we must always be friends,’ he continued, as he +held out his hand. + +‘Oh, yes, Jack--_dear_ Jack!’ she answered, with her bright eyes +swimming in tears; ‘and sometimes I think--sometimes I almost wish--’ + +‘Think and wish nothing, Alice, except what concerns yourself and +Captain Lovell,’ interposed Jack, who had a wholesome horror of a +sentimental scene in public, and was somewhat afraid also of what she +might be going to say. ‘He seems a very good sort of fellow to me, and +I have no doubt he will make you happy. And you may rely on my good +wishes, not only for the wedding, but all your future life. And now, +good-bye, dear, for I have business below. Give my love to your mother, +and tell her how thankful I am for baby’s safety, and how glad that +both your hearts are set at rest.’ + +He waved his hand gaily to her as he disappeared, and Alice believed he +was merely acting a part to hide his disappointment. + +But (had she known it) his heart was far lighter than his action. A +load had been lifted off it. He felt--for the first time--that he was +free (in all honour) to woo and win Iris Hetherley! + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VIII. + +CONFIDENCES. + + +Many landsmen may wonder why vessels bound south go so far to the +westward, instead of making a direct course through the tropics. It is +because the trades are so much stronger on the other side that they +adopt the longer route, in order to make a quicker passage. + +For the same reason, the _Pandora_, after skirting the coast of Brazil, +sailed as far south as fifty-two degrees, that is, six hundred miles to +the south of the Cape of Good Hope, where the westerly breezes could be +depended on. + +As the ship drew nearer the Antarctic regions, the weather became +colder. The ‘boatswains’ and ‘boobies’ were left astern, and +black-speckled Cape pigeons and snowy albatrosses were to be seen +in their stead. The lively skipjacks, bright-coloured bonitas, and +swift dolphins had all disappeared, but monster whales, that swam +majestically after the vessel, denoting their presence by squirting up +volumes of water through their blowholes, and boisterous porpoises, +that gambolled under the boom, and indulged in clumsy antics, supplied +the deficiency. The sky wore a leaden appearance. The air was +exhilarating, and the wind sharp and keen. No one complained now of +the oppressive heat. The ladies packed away their fans again, and came +on deck in their furs. The sailors no longer ran about in white ducks +and with bare feet, but put on strong Cunarders, pilot trousers, and +sea-boots. + +And all hands hailed the change with gladness. The heat at times had +made the passengers both languid and discontented. It was difficult +to rest either by day or night in the hot and stuffy saloon or the +close cabins. But now they felt compelled to be on the move. The +stove was surrounded all day by a flock of petticoats, and at night +the dead lights were firmly screwed up to prevent the chilly air from +penetrating the sleeping berths. On one of these raw evenings few +ventured to show their faces on deck. Some of the ladies were sitting +with the card-players in the smoking-room, a small party was assembled +in Vernon’s berth speculating on _rouge-et-noir_, and two women, seated +in the second cabin, were engaged in earnest conversation. They were +Maggie Greet and Iris Harland. The servant was seated at her mistress’s +feet, with her hands firmly clasped on Iris’s knees as she looked up +into her beautiful face and told her story. It had taken Maggie a long +time to summon up courage to confide the news of her engagement to +Will Farrell to her friend and mistress. For some unaccountable reason, +the girl had felt strangely shy about disclosing her good fortune, and +she might not have confessed it even now, had not something occurred +connected with it, which she felt it incumbent that Iris should +know. But she told the tale with such a burning face, and so many +interruptions, that her hearer could only imagine she was too happy to +be coherent. + +‘Oh, my dear,’ Iris exclaimed, when she had at last arrived at a +knowledge of the facts, ‘I _am_ so glad! And you have been engaged +to Mr Farrell for a whole fortnight, and never told me of it? What +a naughty girl! Didn’t you know that I should be the very first to +congratulate you on your good luck? For you _are_ very lucky, you know, +Maggie. Fancy, finding a husband before you even touch land! And such +a good one too! For I am _sure_ Mr Farrell will be good to you, my +dear! He has a true face, and you will be a happy woman! I am very, +_very_ glad.’ + +And Iris stooped down, and kissed Maggie’s forehead. + +‘Oh, don’t do that!’ cried the girl hurriedly. ‘I ain’t worthy of it, +mistress, nor of nothing that’s happened to me neither, and I’ve told +Will as much. Only he’s good enough to overlook all my faults, and say +he’ll take me as I am. And you’ll come and live with us, won’t you, my +pretty? We’ll all go straight up into the bush as soon as ever we land, +and there I’ll work to my life’s end to try and make you comfortable +and happy.’ + +‘My dear Maggie,’ remonstrated Iris, ‘you forget. Mr Harland is on +board, and I have taken this step to be with him. It is an immense +load off my mind to think you are so happily provided for, for I have +always been fearful lest he should resent your having accompanied me; +but my place is by his side, and as soon as ever we come in sight of +land, I shall walk boldly up to him and declare myself. I hate the +thought of it,’ continued Iris, with the tears in her soft eyes. ‘I +despise him, and I fear him. But it is his business to maintain me, and +my right to demand support from him, and I mean to have it.’ + +‘But, mistress,’ said Maggie, in an earnest tone, ‘you _mustn’t_ go +with him. It isn’t safe. He is a _bad_ man--ah, much worse than you’ve +ever thought of!--and he’d kill you as soon as look at you if you +happened to be in his way. Don’t think of it any more. He’s made you +miserable all along, and he’ll make you miserable again. Come with Will +and me, and forget all about that brute. And after a while, perhaps, +you’ll meet with some one as will make you _really_ happy, and then +all the past will look like a bad dream to you.’ + +‘But, Maggie,’ replied Iris, with mild astonishment, ‘you forget that I +am _married_ to him. How can I get free, or have the liberty to think +of another man? Whilst Mr Harland lives, I must bear my burden as best +I can.’ + +‘I don’t know that,’ said Maggie oracularly. ‘He may free you himself, +and sooner than you think for, if you’ll only leave him alone, and give +him enough rope to hang himself with.’ + +‘Maggie! What _do_ you mean? Have you heard anything? You see I am +afraid even to talk with the other passengers, for fear of my identity +becoming known!’ + +‘You talk with Mr Blythe sometimes, and I should think he was a very +nice young man to talk with, too,’ remarked Maggie dryly. + +Iris blushed crimson. + +‘Oh, yes! he is very kind. I knew him years ago in Scotland, Maggie. +But, of course, I never speak to him of Mr Harland. Indeed, I was so +afraid he might find out something about us, that I told him I was a +widow, for which I have often been sorry since. But do tell me what you +meant by saying that.’ + +‘Well, I meant this, mistress. That that villain (thinking he has got +well rid of you and me) is making up to another woman.’ + +‘What woman? Who told you so?’ demanded Iris quickly. + +‘No one told me. I can see it for myself, and all the ship knows it. +Though I keep my face well covered when I go on deck, I don’t shut my +eyes, I can tell you; and there I see him, day after day, and night +after night, by the side of the same young lady, whispering in her ear, +and goggling at her with those great black eyes of his. So I asked Will +their names (just as if it was for curiosity), and he said they was a +Mr Harland and a Miss Vansittart; and she’s a great heiress, and they +are to be married as soon as they get ashore. I said he looked a bad +’un, and I wouldn’t trust him with the change for a brass farthing; +and then Will told me something about him that--Well, he bound me to +secrecy, but all I can say, my pretty, is that the brute’s in your +power whenever you choose to make use of the knowledge.’ + +‘_In my power_,’ repeated Iris dreamily. + +She had grown very pale, and clenched her hand as Maggie spoke of her +husband’s threatened infidelity; for though a woman may have learnt +through much tribulation to hate and despise a man, she does not hear +with equanimity that he is about to insult and pass her over for +another. But as the girl declared that Harland was ‘_in her power_,’ +her look of anger changed to one of determination. + +‘Tell me directly,’ she cried, clutching her arm. ‘How is he in my +power? What can I do to revenge myself on him?’ + +‘Why, mistress, you frighten me!’ exclaimed Maggie. ‘I never saw you +look like that before. Why should you care what such a black-hearted +villain says or does, except it be to set you free--’ + +‘Free! Free! What would be the good of freedom to me, Maggie? Do +you suppose I would ever take advantage of it--to go in bondage to +another man? But Mr Harland shall not marry this girl. He shall not +aggrandise himself at her expense and mine! He shall not ruin another +life, and make another woman curse the day she ever met him! No! not +if I can prevent it! I have suffered so deeply--I have wept so much on +account of him, that I feel as if I could lay down my life to save a +fellow-creature from the same miserable fate! He shall not marry Miss +Vansittart, Maggie! He shall not even continue to court her, if I can +prevent it! But how--_how_?’ + +She clasped her head with her hands, and bowed herself over the table. + +‘Mistress, dear!’ cried Maggie. ‘My pretty, don’t take on! Oh, the +brute ain’t worth a single tear! If you knew as much as I do, you’d say +so too!’ + +‘I _do_ say so, and I believe it. Maggie, what shall I do?’ + +‘Will you speak to Will, my dear? Will you tell him you’re that man’s +wife, and ask his advice? He can give it better than I. And he can tell +you something (that I daren’t) as will show you that Mr Harland’s worse +than you ever thought him.’ + +And here she whispered in her mistress’s ear. + +‘Oh, how dreadful! How awful it all is!’ moaned Iris. ‘What shall I do? +Who shall I go to?’ + +‘Why not speak to Mr Blythe, mistress. He’s young, but he’s your +friend; and he’s got a head on his shoulders. Tell it all to him.’ + +‘No! no! I can’t!’ said her companion, shaking her head. + +‘Well, it’s the truth,’ replied Maggie, rising to her feet; ‘and, if I +was you, I’d just leave the brute alone till he’s well in the net, and +then come down upon him for bigamy. Why, only think of it! You’d be as +free as air! And if you stop him, you may be bound all your life.’ + +‘How can I take my happiness at the expense of an innocent person, +Maggie?’ + +‘Do you mean Miss Vansittart? I shouldn’t call HER innocent! She’s +just as ready to have him as he is her; and I bet she’s never took the +trouble to ask if he’s married or single. Just like them women! Ready +to jump down any man’s throat,’ said Maggie, with as much indignation +as if she had not been a woman herself. ‘Well, I’ll leave you now, my +pretty, and go on deck to have a look after them two, and if I can find +out anything more about their doings, I’ll come back and let you know.’ + +‘Yes, do go, dear Maggie. I shall be better left alone to think out +this new dilemma by myself. Go to your Will, and be as happy as you +can; but don’t tell him anything about me until we meet again.’ + +As soon as Maggie met Will Farrell, he saluted her with a fresh story +concerning their mutual enemy. A rumour had spread about the ship that +Harland had played with marked cards the night before, when he had been +particularly lucky at Napoleon; and although there was no verification +of the report, it was generally known, and every one was looking +askance at him in consequence. Mr Vansittart was especially disturbed. +He had taken an unusual fancy for Godfrey Harland, and, notwithstanding +his wife’s objections to the match, he had encouraged his attentions +to his daughter. Now he heard with consternation that Mr Fowler had +accused Harland in the smoke-room, of looking over his neighbour’s +hand, with the intent to defraud, and he wished earnestly that he had +been a little more reticent in his manner towards him. The accusation +was a grave one, but it had gone no farther at the time, although the +scene that ensued had been very noisy. But it had not been withdrawn, +and Mr Fowler had refused to tender an apology, so that the rest of the +passengers were beginning not to see Mr Harland when he approached them. + +‘If he ever tries it on again, he’ll get tarred and feathered,’ said +Farrell, in conclusion. + +‘And serve him right, too,’ replied Maggie imprudently. ‘I know _I’d_ +like to have the handling of him--the black villain!’ + +‘Why, Maggie, what do _you_ know about him?’ said Farrell, with +surprise. + +‘Haven’t you told me he ruined your life, Will, by palming off his own +forgeries upon you?’ + +‘Yes, so he did, and I’ll be even with him for it yet. But you spoke as +if you had a private grudge against him.’ + +‘And so I have,’ whispered the girl, with a sob in her throat. ‘Put +your head closer, Will, and you shall know all. You know I told you +I was a bad girl, and had been ruined by some one who was worse than +myself. Well, _that’s_ the man. Godfrey Harland is my seducer.’ + +‘D--n him!’ hissed Farrell, between his teeth; ‘it will be another nail +in his coffin when we settle our accounts. But how did it happen, my +girl? Where did you meet him? Does your mistress know?’ + +‘Ah! no, no!’ cried Maggie, as she grasped him convulsively; ‘and you +must _swear_ never to tell her, Will. For I’ve tried to make it up to +her, indeed I have. I knew I wasn’t fit to stay by her side, and that +if she guessed how bad I was, she’d have sent me away. But she wanted +my help and my protection: that was all I stayed for. I couldn’t bear +to leave her in his clutches--so bad and cruel as he is, and so I tried +to forget it all, for her sake. But I hate him all the worse that he +should have tempted me to injure such a sweet, dear creature as she is, +and as pure as the stars that are shining over us now.’ + +‘But I don’t understand you, Maggie. How can that blackguard’s +behaviour to you injure Miss Douglas? She doesn’t know him, too, does +she?’ + +‘Why, she’s _his wife_! There, now, I’ve let the cat out of the bag; +but you’ll keep it sacred, won’t you, Will, for my sake, and the dear +mistress, for she don’t want it known just yet?’ + +‘_His wife!_’ repeated Farrell. ‘Why, I had no idea that he was +married. Poor lady! I _do_ pity her. I’d pity a dog that was in his +power. But how, then, can he marry Miss Vansittart? What new devilry +is he up to? Maggie, you and I must prevent this. We have him in our +power.’ + +‘Yes, yes; but we must do nothing until we know it’s for the best. +Don’t you see, Will, that this is why the mistress and I have been +hiding all the voyage? We’ve been afraid of _his_ seeing us; and except +he holds his head too high for the second cabin, he must have done so +before this.’ + +‘He’s got another reason for not caring for the company of the second +cabin, Maggie,’ said Farrell, laughing. ‘He knows _I’m_ there. I met +him before we came aboard, and warned him to keep out of my way. But +when we get on shore, we’ll cry quits. Don’t be in a hurry, girl. Bide +your time, and you’ll see the finest shindy that’s ever met your eyes, +as soon as we get on shore.’ + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE WHALER. + + +It was an intensely cold morning. As the sun raised his golden head of +light above the horizon, huge icebergs could be seen far away to the +southward, looking like monuments of dazzling crystal; and a westerly +wind, combined with the smell of the bergs, was sufficient to nip any +prominent part of the face left exposed to its freezing blast. On +board the _Pandora_ not a sound was to be heard, save the footsteps +of Mr Coffin, as he tramped steadily up and down the deck, turning an +occasional glance upon the _Daisy_, a little barque of four hundred +tons, that was sailing alongside of them. The _Daisy_ was a whaler, +built at Glasgow, and hailing from Peterhead. Her commander, Captain +Rae, was a rough, weather-beaten old son of Neptune--stern on duty and +fearless of danger; but when on shore (which was seldom), a favourite +with women, and beloved of little children. Everybody in Peterhead knew +Captain Rae, and accorded him a hearty welcome whenever his barque +anchored in port. The men met him with outstretched hands; the women +smiled upon him graciously; and the children clung to his sleeves and +coat tails, like barnacles on a water-logged plank. + +‘It won’t do to go any further down south,’ he observed to his chief +officer, Mr Green, who had just emerged from the booby hatch, after +taking a cup of steaming coffee, ‘because we shall be falling in with +too much ice, and I like to give them bergs a wide berth. Besides, +I’ve a notion we shall fall in with some fish before long, if that +darned passenger packet to leeward don’t scare ’em away. Let her come +to two points,’ he called out to the man at the wheel. ‘Keep her due +east.’ + +And the sailor, having put his helm down, the captain retired to the +sanctity of his cabin. The mate watched him disappear, and then, +unceremoniously squirting a jet of tobacco juice on the unholystoned +deck, muttered something about ‘the _Pandora’s_ petticoats,’ and +commenced to take rapid strides along the boards. Jabez Aminadab +Green was a down-easter--a tall, lanky fellow, with long body and +spindle-shank legs. He was some years older than the skipper--streaks +of grey having already shown themselves in his short grey beard. His +eyes were blue, like blue glass beads, having no expression in them. +He had hollow cheeks, an aquiline nose, and a wide mouth, which was +generally kept open to display an irregular set of teeth, stained and +decayed by the constant use of tobacco. + +At four bells all hands on watch aboard of both crafts turned to--the +sailors of the _Pandora_ being employed in scrubbing their decks for +the reception of the passengers, whilst the hardy old whalers lazily +crawled out of their forecastle, and, after dashing a few buckets of +water over the captain’s quarters, betook themselves to the ’tween +decks, where they stretched new lines, and vied with each other in +telling the ‘longest twister’ (that is, in nautical parlance, the most +improbable untruth) they could possibly think of. When the bells were +struck to announce breakfast aboard the _Daisy_, their sound re-echoed +on the _Pandora_, and the seamen of the smaller craft were surprised to +see the poop deck of their big neighbour crowded with bright dresses +and brighter faces; whilst the ladies of the _Pandora_ wondered, in +their turn, at the appearance of so large a crew on such a little +vessel, and their interest continued throughout the day. + +‘_There she spouts!_’ sang out the man on the look-out at the +fore-topmast head of the whaler, not half-an-hour afterwards. + +‘Where away?’ bawled Mr Green. + +‘Two points on the starboard bow,’ was the answer. + +‘Aye! aye!’ said the mate, catching sight of the whale, as it rose +close to the _Pandora_. + +‘Are there many?’ hastily inquired Captain Rae, who had deserted his +breakfast as soon as he heard the welcome news. + +‘Wal, I guess so, sir,’ replied Mr Green. ‘There are some in the wake +of that packet ahead theer; and I saw one critter breach away here on +the quarter. There he goes again!’ continued the mate, pointing to a +large dark object which had leapt right out of the water, and fallen in +again with a tremendous splash. + +When the intelligence reached the saloon of the _Pandora_ that a school +of whales was playing right under her bow, the passengers, frantic with +excitement, left their breakfast to take care of itself, and, gathering +together every spy-glass and binocular that could be borrowed or +stolen, rushed upon deck, and remained there until the play was over, +and the curtain fell. + +The _Daisy’s_ helm was put down, and her foresail laid to the mast, and +when her clew garnets were chock-a-block, the boats were quickly but +cautiously lowered. The chief officer, in charge of the first boat, +was stationed in the stern, grasping a long sweep to steer her with. +Six hands on the thwarts manned the oars, and Christopher Thommasen, +a Norwegian harpooner, with his deadly weapons, sat in the bow. With +long muffled strokes the rowers laid back on their blades, and in a +short space of time reached the desired spot, not, however, before they +had ‘gallied’ (or alarmed) one of the ‘bulls,’ who began to shoot his +spout of water to a great height. Some of the ‘cows’ approached very +close to the boat--so close, indeed, that at times she was in imminent +danger of being upset, and all hands expected to be toppled into the +water, and delivered over to the mercy of Davy Jones. + +When the old Norwegian, Christopher Thommasen, had selected his fish, +and the boat was pulled in its wake, the order was given, ‘_Stand up +and give it him!_’ and the harpooner, poising his dart above his head, +and taking careful aim, let the shaft fly with all his might, and it +whizzed through the air, embedding itself deeply in the body of the +whale. + +The wounded creature ‘bobtailed,’ lashing the billows with its powerful +tail, and sending up quantities of white foam, which fell in a heavy +shower over the men, drenching them to the skin. + +‘_Stern all!_’ shouted the mate, perceiving their danger, and the +frail craft was instantly back-watered out of harm’s way. Finding that +this manœuvre did not dispose of his assailants, nor relieve him of +the agonising harpoon (which he probably mistook for the teeth of a +swordfish), the monster of the deep dived to an immense depth, drawing +out the line with amazing velocity. This is the whale’s method of +freeing himself from his piscatorial enemies, who, being unable (as he +is) to sustain the pressure of a deep ocean, are compelled to let go of +him. + +‘There goes flukes,’ shouted Thommasen, as he saw the whale disappear, +and the men shipped their oars, and prepared for an exciting chase. +Away went the ‘schoolmaster’ at his topmost speed, rising at intervals +to the surface to give vent to a plaintive moan, and diving again with +breathless rapidity, as he towed his persecutors through the water +after him at a considerable rate. Then more darts were planted into +the heaving flanks of the labouring fish, who had commenced to tremble +violently. Red columns of blood spurted from his wounds, and fell back +upon his aching sides, dyeing the water around him crimson. Suddenly +the ‘flurry’ (which is the whaling term for the expiring struggles of +the fish), and the sharp, cracking noise which had sounded from the +blowholes, ceased, and the huge brute turned upwards, and lay upon +the ocean dead. Then the carcase was slowly towed past the passenger +vessel, amidst the cheers of the spectators, back to the _Daisy_, who +had got under weigh again, and made fast to her side by chains. Two men +cut off the ‘blanket,’ or scarf-skin, with their spades, whilst others +heaved away on the capstan, and turned the body round. + +The head was taken aboard whole, and then the operation of ‘flewsing,’ +or cutting away the blubber, was gone through. When all the useful +parts had been secured--the head, which contains a large amount of +oil--the blubber--the bag, from which the whalers extract ambergris, +and the teeth--the order was given to ‘_Haul in chains_,’ and the huge +white carcase floated astern, and was immediately covered by myriads of +water-fowl, who quarrelled and fought over their unexpected treat. + +The passengers of the _Pandora_ witnessed the chase and capture from +the port bow of their vessel, and many were their ignorant conjectures +as to the mode of boiling down and preserving the dead fish, and they +watched the _Daisy_ perseveringly with their glasses until a large +cloud of black smoke, arising from her cauldrons, announced that the +blubber had been finally disposed of; and the operation of ‘whaling’ +was over. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER X. + +DANGER. + + +About the same time a small wreath of blue smoke was observed issuing +from one of the starboard ports of the _Pandora’s_ half-round, and the +alarmed steward rushed upon the quarter-deck, with the terrible news +that the ship was on fire. Vernon Blythe was the officer to receive it. + +‘Unbatten the main hatch,’ he shouted, in a loud, clear collected voice +to the carpenter, ‘and pass out the kegs of gunpowder. Now, lads!’ he +continued, addressing some of his watch, ‘screw on your hose, and lead +it through the skylight.’ + +As the women became alive to the possible danger of their position, +they made confusion worse confounded by their screams. + +‘Jack,’ cried Alice Leyton, as she flew to him for protection, ‘where +shall we go? What shall we do? We shall all be burned to death.’ + +‘Stay where you are, dear,’ he answered, hastily but kindly, ‘and do +nothing. It will all be right in a few minutes. Where is Lovell? Go and +stay by him till I tell you all is safe,’ and with a nod and a smile he +was off to the scene of action. + +Alice rushed to her mother, who was half-fainting in a wicker chair, +and flung herself at her feet. + +‘Oh, he was too good for me. I was a fool not to see it. If anything +happens to him, I shall never forgive myself,’ she said incoherently, +as she began to weep with fear. + +Mrs Vansittart was leaning on her husband’s arm, pale with fright, as +she begged him to say if she had ever failed in her duty to him during +the last twenty years; her daughter Grace was trying to extract some +consolation from Godfrey Harland, who appeared to be more alarmed than +herself, and all the other passengers were watching the threatened +danger with faces white with suspense and fear. At the moment of the +alarm, Mr Coffin happened to be between his blankets, snoring loudly, +and Captain Robarts was in a similar position in his cabin, but both +men were soon awakened to a sense of what was going on in the vessel. + +Jack Blythe, having given a few instructions to the crew, rushed down +the narrow passage to the saloon, and having ascertained from which +berth the smoke was issuing, he entered it without ceremony. A small +box lay upon the floor. Placing his hand upon the cover, he lifted +it up, but not before the iron bands surrounding it had burned his +palm, and as soon as it was done, the cabin was illumined by a sheet +of flame. Tearing off his coat, Jack threw it on the burning mass, but +was obliged immediately to retreat, half blinded and suffocated by the +dense volumes of smoke his garment produced. Pressing forward again +with a large glass decanter of water from the saloon sideboard, he +succeeded in extinguishing the flames in the box, but not before the +bed-clothes were all on fire. + +By that time he was joined by some of the others, amongst whom was +Captain Robarts with the hose, which Jack snatched from him, and played +upon the burning articles, but the cabin was gutted and the bulkhead +charred before the fire was out and the danger over. + +Jack’s hair was scorched by the flame, and his eyes smarting and +blackened by the smoke, as he emerged from the saloon, and drew in a +deep breath of the fresh air. + +‘Are you hurt, Mr Blythe?’ inquired Captain Robarts, who was proud of +his smart young officer. + +‘Not a bit, sir. My hair won’t want cutting again just yet,’ said Jack, +passing his hand over his singed locks; ‘and the fire caught my ears a +little. But I’m all right, and the ship’s all right, which is much more +to the purpose.’ + +‘Thanks to your promptitude and courage, sir,’ replied the skipper. + +The compliment was formal, but Jack coloured with pleasure to receive +it, from brow to chin. + +‘How did the fire originate? Where did it come from? Who put it +out? What damage has it done?’ were the queries put by the various +passengers, whose fears soon calmed down as they were apprised of their +safety. But no one could answer them. + +‘Mr Greenwood, Captain Robarts desires to see you in the saloon,’ said +the steward, when the bustle and confusion were somewhat abated; and +the young gentleman followed him to the presence of the master of the +_Pandora_. + +The captain was seated at the table, with his log-book before him. + +‘I have sent for you, Mr Greenwood,’ he commenced, in a stern voice, +‘to ask how this fire originated. The smoke and the flames came from +your cabin, and I understand you were the last person to leave it. How +did it happen?’ + +‘I’m sure I can’t tell you, sir,’ replied young Greenwood, who was +trembling under the captain’s gaze. + +‘But no one has been in the berth but yourself,’ rejoined Captain +Robarts; ‘my steward is a witness to that.’ + +‘But I don’t think it could have been _me_, sir, don’t you know?’ +spluttered the youth, ‘because--’ + +‘What were you doing there?’ thundered the skipper; ‘come, sir, no +nonsense with me. The lives of the whole ship’s company have been +endangered, and I _will_ find out the cause. What did you come down +for? Tell me at once. As captain of this vessel, I have a right to +question you.’ + +Harold Greenwood had heard of other rights possessed by the captain of +a vessel, such as putting mutinous subjects under arrest, and fearful +of what the consequences of telling an untruth might be, he stammered +out that he only came down to fetch a cigarette. + +‘And where did you light your cigarette, Mr Greenwood?’ continued the +captain relentlessly. + +‘In the berth,’ blurted out the young man, ‘but I threw the match into +the basin, don’t you know? I am _sure_ I did. I always do; and that +can’t do any harm, eh?’ + +‘Steward, go with Mr Greenwood, and get the lucifer out of the basin,’ +said the skipper; and whilst Harold tremblingly followed the servant, +the captain leaned his head upon his hand, and seemed lost in thought. +The search was unsuccessful. No trace of a burnt lucifer could be found +in the basin. + +‘But I’m _sure_ I did,’ stammered Greenwood. + +‘_I_ will tell you what you did, Mr Greenwood,’ interrupted the captain +angrily. ‘You lighted your cigarette, and dropped the still burning +match into the box, and set fire to my vessel. You are well aware that +smoking is prohibited in the saloon, yet by your disobedience and +carelessness you have endangered the lives of my passengers and crew. +Had it not been for the presence of mind of my second officer, the +whole ship would have been blown out of the water.’ + +‘I’m sure, sir, I’m very sorry, don’t you know?’ + +‘_Sorry_, sir! what use would your being sorry have been when we were +all dead men? You’re a fool, sir, that’s what you are--a d--d fool! +You can leave me now. I shall enter the facts as they occurred, into +my official log, and you will be charged with the damages, and I only +hope your father may stop your allowance in consequence, and leave you +less money to waste on cigarettes and matches, for the future. I have +nothing further to say to you, sir, and you can go.’ + +Harold Greenwood sneaked out of the austere presence, looking very +small and pitiful, and found to his horror, on reaching the deck, +that the whole conversation had been overheard by the inquisitive +passengers, who had listened attentively to it through the skylight. +And he had the further mortification of hearing Jack Blythe’s +cool-headed pluck lauded on all sides, by the same tongues that +reproached him for his stupidity and want of care. + +‘Allow me to congratulate you, Blythe,’ said Captain Lovell, ‘you +possess all the attributes of a hero.’ + +‘We owe you a vote of thanks,’ added Mr Vansittart. ‘Had it not been +for your courage, sir, we might all have been blown to smithereens by +this time, and our limbs scattered to the four quarters of the globe.’ + +‘But you’ve lost your coat, I hear,’ said Miss Vere; ‘we must get you +the very best that’s made, by general subscription, Mr Blythe.’ + +‘And, oh, Jack, you’ve hurt your hand!’ cried Alice Leyton plaintively, +‘and your hair is burnt right off to the roots, in front. Won’t you do +anything for yourself, when you have done so much for us?’ + +‘Belay that, Alice,’ replied the young sailor laughingly. ‘You know +how I hate fuss of all sort. And as for my hand, it is only a little +scorched, and will be all right to-morrow. I’ve had it twice as sore +after handling the ropes, I can tell you.’ + +‘Ah, you never _would_ let any one thank you, whatever you did for +them,’ said Alice, with a sigh. + +But there she made a mistake. There were _some_ thanks that Vernon +Blythe accepted greedily, and treasured the remembrance of in his +heart of hearts. As the night fell, and he sought out Iris Harland on +the quarter-deck, her hand grasped his with a feverish pressure. + +‘We have heard it _all_,’ she said, with a warm, grateful light in the +eyes she bent on him; ‘Maggie and I were in the cabin when the alarm +broke out, and at first I was very much frightened. But the steward or +some one called out that it was Mr Blythe’s watch, and he had gone to +see what it was all about. And then somehow, I felt quite satisfied. It +seemed as if it _must_ be all right, if _you_ were there.’ + +‘Is that _really_ the case, Iris? Was the sense of my presence and +protection such a comfort to you as all that?’ + +‘Indeed it was. I have only told you the truth. You are so brave and +strong, and you seem so fearless yourself, that you inspire others with +courage.’ + +‘It makes me very happy to hear you say so. Yet I was not quite so +fearless as you give me credit for, Iris. When I first perceived the +possibility of danger, the thought of _one_ person on board this vessel +came into my mind, and almost paralysed me, until the same thought +nerved my arm, and made me feel as if I could dare and do anything for +her sake.’ + +‘That was the young lady you are engaged to, Mr Blythe, I suppose. You +see, we hear all the chatter in the second cabin. Maggie has pointed +her out to me--Miss Leyton, I mean--and I think she is very pretty. +And, Mr Blythe,’ continued Iris, in a sweet, faltering voice, ‘I _do_ +hope you will be happy with her. I--I--don’t think marriage is a very +happy condition myself, but there are always exceptions, and I shall +pray yours may be one of them.’ + +‘I think it will, if it ever comes to pass. But that will not be with +Alice Leyton, Iris. Maggie and you are both mistaken. I am not engaged +to her, or any woman. In fact, I believe she is on the point of being +engaged to Captain Lovell. + +‘Indeed! Then it was not _she_ who inspired your deed of daring?’ + +‘No. Quite another person. But you must not speak of a common act of +duty by such an absurd name. There was never any positive danger. A +young fool called Greenwood lit his cigar in the berth, and dropped the +burning lucifer, which set the whole cabin in a blaze. Of course, it +_might_ have resulted in a disaster. But it won’t do in this life to +calculate on our “might-have-beens,” unless we wish to turn it into a +book of Lamentations.’ + +‘Have you missed so many chances, then, Mr Blythe? I should not have +thought so.’ + +‘I have missed _one_, Iris, for which no future success can ever repay +me. Cannot you guess what that was?’ + +‘You don’t mean that old business at the Bridge of Allan, surely?’ she +said, in a low voice. + +‘Indeed I do. I do not blame _you_ for one moment, remember. I know +that it was not your fault, and that I alone was to blame for my +presumption in daring to love you, but it has spoilt my life.’ + +They were standing by the side of the vessel looking into the rushing +sea as he spoke to her, and they were almost alone. The evening was +so cold that none of the saloon passengers were on the poop, and the +quarter-deck was nearly deserted. Maggie sat in a sheltered corner +under the long-boat, by the side of Will Farrell, but they were too +far off, and too much engrossed by each other, to hear what their +companions said. And so Iris, wrapped in a dark cloak, stood, under +the cover of night, with her sad eyes upraised, and her pure profile +limned against the evening sky; and Vernon Blythe lingered by her side, +looking with infinite love and yearning on her face. He was dreaming +all sorts of wild, impossible dreams as he did so, but the wakening was +coming to him only too soon. + +‘_It has spoilt your life_,’ repeated Iris, in a tone of incredulity. +‘Oh, don’t say that, Mr Blythe. You make me feel so very miserable and +guilty.’ + +‘Have I not just said that I acquit you of any intentional unkindness? +How could you have been expected to believe that such a lad as I was +should presume to lift his eyes to you? But, you see, I couldn’t help +it. It was a sort of fate with me. I saw you and loved you from the +beginning, and since then I have tried to put you out of my mind by +every possible means, in vain. You _will_ stick there. You are so +obstinate.’ + +Iris laughed faintly. + +‘I am very, _very_ sorry. I must seem like an obstinate Irish tenant to +you, who pays no rent, and yet refuses to turn out. Why don’t you evict +me?’ + +‘I wouldn’t evict you if I could,’ said the young man warmly. + +‘I don’t think,’ went on Iris dreamily, ‘that I quite knew what I was +about in those days, Mr Blythe. I was only eighteen, you know (I am +twenty-three now), and I had lived all my life in the country with my +father, and he never looked after me, or advised me, as my mother would +have done. If my poor mother had lived, I don’t think I should ever +have married--as I did marry. But I was so ignorant. I knew nothing.’ + +‘Iris,’ said Vernon suddenly, ‘tell me all about your marriage. I never +heard more than the mere facts. I don’t even know your married name, +unless it was “Douglas.” But why do you call yourself “_Miss_?” Why are +you going out to Dunedin? What was your husband, and when did he die? +Would it be painful for you to tell me all this?’ + +‘Very painful. Please don’t ask me. My past life is like a bad dream to +me.’ + +‘Then you were not happy with him?’ + +‘No.’ + +‘Did he dare to ill-treat you?’ exclaimed Vernon. + +Iris was silent. + +‘My God!’ cried the young man fiercely; ‘were he only on earth, he +should answer to me for this.’ + +‘Hush! hush! Mr Blythe. Let us drop the subject. It is all over now,’ +said Iris trembling. + +‘But _is_ it all over? Can any future life (however happy) give you +back your peace of mind, your lovely, girlish innocence, your health +and strength? I parted with you rich in every gift that youth and hope +can give--able and willing to speak of yourself, your past and your +future; I meet you again, broken in health and spirits, with dark +passages in your life which you dare not speak of--with no prospects, +and no friends. Iris, it is killing me! I was a boy then, it is true, +without future, or experience, or anything to recommend me in your +eyes. But I _loved_ you, passionately and devotedly, and even though +you did not love me, I could have made you happier than this. Oh, why +did you throw yourself away on a man who could not appreciate you?’ + +‘How can I answer a question to you which I cannot answer to myself. +I suppose I was mad, or blind. He was good-looking, and an adept at +deception, and I was too inexperienced to distinguish the true metal +from the false. Don’t blame me for it too much, Mr Blythe. I liked +you very much. I felt honoured by your preference, and I have never +forgotten it since. But you seemed such a boy to me then, and I did not +know--I could not tell--’ she faltered, breaking down. + +‘But I am not a boy now,’ urged Vernon eagerly; ‘I was twenty-five +last birthday. You will not accuse me again of not knowing my own +mind. Oh, Iris, I have never ceased to love, and dream of you. In my +lonely watches, in tempests and in calm--from the torrid to the frigid +zone--it has been all the same. Your dear image, the echo of your +voice, the crumbs of comfort you threw to me in my distress, have been +hugged to my heart as its best treasures. And it will be so till I die, +even should I live for another half century.’ + +‘What am I to say to you?’ she answered, weeping, ‘except that it can +never, _never_ be. Oh, Mr Blythe, don’t talk to me of love. It is +useless! It can end in nothing! I--I--must not listen to you.’ + +‘But _why_? What is the obstacle? Do you love any one else?’ + +Iris shook her head. + +‘And do you dislike me?’ + +She did not shake her head this time, but she looked up at the sky, and +he could see the large tears that stood in her eyes, course slowly down +her cheeks. + +‘Oh, my darling!’ he exclaimed rapturously, as he threw his arms around +her, ‘I have conquered at last. You need not trouble yourself to give +me any other answer.’ + +But Iris twisted herself out of his embrace, and turned her pale face +towards him. + +‘Don’t! Pray, pray, don’t!’ she said earnestly. ‘I--I--cannot bear it! +I appreciate all you have said to me at its full value, and I shall +never forget it. But there it must end! For I have deceived you, Mr +Blythe! I am not a widow! I--I--am _still married_.’ + +As this announcement left her lips, Vernon Blythe felt as if he had +been struck right across the face. He turned as white as a sheet, +looked her fixedly in the eyes for a moment, then dropping her hand, he +turned on his heel, and walked silently away. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XI. + +SHIPPING SEAS. + + +A strong westerly wind coursed the Southern ocean, and gigantic green +waves rolled on all sides of the _Pandora_, sometimes rushing up +against her with pugilistic violence, and depositing tons of water +on her deck. White clouds drifted across the heavens with tremendous +speed, upon a background of cerulean blue. A grey bank, however, that +stretched from aft to the starboard beam, betokened the advent of hail, +or snow, whilst the sun struggled at times to pour his feeble rays +upon the surface of the deep. + +The _Pandora_ was running before the gale. Her mainsails and crossjack +were stowed, to permit the foresail to have full play, which bellied +out to such an extent that it pressed tightly against the sheep-skin +chafing-gear on the forestay. The fore-topmast staysail and inner jib, +flapping idly to and fro, might have had the gaskets round them, for +all the good that they were doing, and the smaller sails on the mizen +were furled, to keep the main royal and topgallant sail full, lest she +should take in too much water aft. + +The heavy swells made the ship roll violently, often dipping her main +bumpkins into the water, and agitating the compass card to such an +extent that the man at the wheel could not depend on its accuracy, for +ascertaining the true position of the vessel’s head. + +At mid-day the sun had risen behind a squall, and Captain Robarts, +after waiting patiently for twenty minutes, with sextant in hand, +carried his instrument below again, and went to luncheon, not, however, +without a growl at the obstructing cloud which prevented his getting +the meridian altitude. + +The hour for lunch was gladly welcomed by the passengers that day, for +their appetites had been sharpened by the keen wind, and punctual to +the moment, all were seated in their accustomed places. + +Vernon Blythe, arrayed in his long silk oilskin coat and ‘sou’-wester,’ +having relieved Mr Coffin, was in charge of the vessel, and the watch +were huddled together round the mainmast, standing by to take his +orders. + +As the sky became darker with the squall, large flakes of snow fell +upon the deck, and increased in number, until the _Pandora_ was +enveloped in a blinding sheet of white. + +‘It is useless to look at the compass,’ said Vernon Blythe, as he +watched the helmsman trying to clear the face with his mitten. ‘Watch +her head, man, and give her as few spokes as possible.’ + +The _Pandora’s_ steering-gear was of the latest invention, and a +reliable quartermaster would have found no difficulty in guiding her +on her course. But the man at the helm had been taught to steer by the +compass only, and when the snow covered the glass of the binnacle and +obscured the points, he was utterly at a loss how to proceed, and quite +unfit, in consequence, for the responsible post he held. + +When, therefore, the ship ran off her course, he gave her so many +spokes that she came flying to--the weather leeches shivered, the +headsails filled, and she shipped an enormous sea, which thumped upon +the deck right amidships, and ran in a boisterous torrent forward. + +Vernon Blythe saw the ship’s mad caperings, and shouted to the +helmsman to put his helm up, before she was broadside on. But he +was too late. The mischief was done. With the backward roll of the +_Pandora_, as she lifted over the swells, the mighty stream of water +flowed aft. The steward, unprepared for such a disaster, had not +shipped the weather board, and the sea poured through the cabin +passage, taking him clean off his legs, and drenching both himself and +a roast turkey, which he was about pompously to place on the saloon +table, with salt water. + +The sailors at the main, knowing what to expect when scudding with such +a sea, jumped on the fiferail, and clung to the crossjack braces, thus +saving themselves a ducking. + +But the assault was not yet over. Immediately succeeding the first sea, +a second cataract of water leapt over at the main chains, and doubled +the large amount which was already aboard. At this disaster, dismay and +confusion reigned paramount in the saloon. Ladies and gentlemen left +their luncheon alike, as the latter rushed about to see if they could +render any serviceable assistance, and the former, with piteous little +shrieks for help, lifted their petticoats, and jumped on the seats, to +keep their feet out of the water. + +‘We are going down!’ cried Mrs Vansittart. ‘Oh, John, I knew no good +would come of our going to England.’ + +‘Mother!’ screamed Alice Leyton, ‘the sea is filling the ship! Oh, +where is Jack?’ + +‘Don’t leave me, Godfrey,’ murmured Grace Vansittart, as she clung to +her lover’s shoulders. + +‘Ladies, I beg of you not to be alarmed. I can assure you there is not +the slightest danger,’ commenced Captain Robarts; but an accident, +which had its comical as well as its serious side, prevented the +conclusion of his sentence. The benches on which the party had been +seated were made of oak, with broad backs, fastened to the deck on +either side with brass screws. Consequently, when the ladies scrambled +on them, and stood as far back as they possibly could, with their +skirts gathered in their hands, the whole of their weight was thrown +on the supports. The oaken benches were strong, but the fastenings +were not, and the unusual strain drew the screws from their hold, +and caused the entire structure to give way. With piercing screams +and exclamations, clutching at the fiddles and the tablecloths, and +dragging the china and glass on the top of them, the men and women were +precipitated backwards into the stream of water, where they lay in a +confused heap, struggling and spluttering, but unable to extricate +themselves. Their heads were against the doors and partitions of the +private cabins, whilst their bodies rested on the seats of the benches, +which were partly underneath them. The deplorable but ridiculous scene +can better be imagined than described. Rolls, pats of butter, cold +chickens, potatoes, and empty bottles of beer were floating about the +cabin floor, whilst the dish-covers and glasses were mostly in their +laps, or surging against their faces. The men could not move, any more +than their fair companions, and whilst some swore and others sobbed +with fright and humiliation, the cold salt water kept ‘swishing’ over +them all. + +Captain Robarts, from his arm-chair of state, viewed the accident as +an everyday occurrence, and awaited its termination with complacency, +not offering the slightest assistance to any one. But Mr Coffin, with +his mouth full of roast goose; and a wicked smile of amusement on his +face, gallantly went to the rescue. Mrs Vansittart was the first saved +from the deluge, with the colour considerably lessened in her honest, +rosy face. Captain Lovell was next hauled out, but he made light of the +affair, and burst into a loud laugh, which was instantly stopped by +the aggrieved and indignant looks of Alice Leyton. + +‘How can you laugh in that unfeeling way,’ she said, ‘when I feel +bruised all over? But of course you’re not hurt yourself, and so it +does not signify. Men are the most selfish creatures in the world.’ + +‘By Jove! it’s spoilt my new suit, though, don’t you know?’ observed Mr +Greenwood, looking the picture of misery, as he examined the state of +his garments. + +‘You did your best to burn us out of house and home the other day, Mr +Greenwood,’ said the captain grimly, ‘so you mustn’t be surprised if no +one sympathises with you over a ducking.’ + +‘_We_ shall be none the worse for it,’ remarked Mr Fowler, shaking +himself like a huge water-dog; ‘it’s the ladies who are to be pitied +for wetting their pretty dresses, and prettier faces.’ + +But the women did not wait to be condoled with. As soon as they had +regained a normal position, and ascertained there was nothing to be +frightened at in ‘shipping a sea,’ they ran away to their berths to +change their clothes, and recover the shock sustained by their modesty. + +In the second cabin the passengers had not escaped a wetting. Plenty +of water had penetrated the hatch, and made their abode damp and +uncomfortable, and it was not until the first dog-watch had commenced, +and the swinging lamps were lit, that they could sit with dry feet in +the general dining-room. + +‘My pretty,’ whispered Maggie Greet, as she crept up to Iris’s side for +a moment, ‘you’ll have to keep to your berth this evening, if you don’t +want to have a shindy, for Will says as _he’s_ coming down to play here +with the others.’ + +‘_Mr Harland?_’ exclaimed Iris, blanching like a lily. ‘Oh, Maggie! +_why_ does he come here? Who asked him?’ + +‘I don’t know, dear. Not Mr Farrell, you may be sure, for they hate +each other like poison. But Will says he’s been kicked out of every +other cabin. They’re fighting very shy of him upstairs, as well they +may. And he overheard a gentleman asking Mr Harland why he didn’t come +down and play on the lower deck, and he said he’d try it to-night. So +be on your guard, that’s all.’ + +‘What shall I do?’ said Iris distressfully. ‘If he takes to it as a +custom, he will drive me to take refuge in my berth every evening. I +never thought the saloon passengers would be allowed down here.’ + +‘Well! I expect, if you want to get rid of him, you’ve only to show +yourself. I believe he’d rather see the devil just now than you. For +_he_ don’t interfere with his wickedness, but _you_ will! It would be +all up with his game with Miss Vansittart, if you told your true name +to the captain! Wouldn’t it, my dear?’ + +‘And that is what I shall be compelled to do, Maggie, sooner or later. +I cannot stand by and see him commit such a wickedness, and hold myself +guiltless.’ + +‘Not even if you could have Mr--I mean a better man instead of him,’ +insinuated Maggie. + +‘No, Maggie! a better man wouldn’t take me on such conditions. But I +don’t want to shame Mr Harland before all the ship, if a more private +means of warning him will have the same effect. I sit sometimes for +hours and try to decide what will be for the best, and I always come to +the same conclusion--that I am one of the most unfortunate women on the +face of the earth.’ + +‘Never mind, my pretty,’ whispered Maggie consolingly, ‘it’ll all come +right some day. I have doubts about myself sometimes, because I’ve been +a wicked girl, and it don’t seem right as I _should_ be happy. But +I’ve none about you! I can see it as plain as a picture, and if I don’t +live to see it, it will be all the same. You’ll have a good man and a +true, please God, some day, to make up to you for the past!’ + +And Maggie turned away with a sob. + +‘Why, dear Maggie! what’s the matter with you to-night?’ + +‘Nothing, mistress, only Will’s too good to me sometimes, and makes me +so ashamed of myself. But there now, the gentlemen are beginning to +come down for their game, so I must run away, and you’d better do the +same.’ + +And so the two women, who owed much of their immunity from discovery to +Will Farrell’s careful look-out on their behalf, kissed each other, and +separated for the night. + +The origin of this conversation was, that since the breaking up of the +card-parties in the smoke-room, owing to the loose play of Godfrey +Harland, the deckhouse had been deserted of an evening, and the +gentlemen had betaken themselves elsewhere. + +Some played in the spacious berth of the second officers, others +preferred the society of the ladies, and a few were invited to the +second cabin, where smoking was not prohibited, and their less +aristocratic fellow-passengers did their utmost to make them feel at +home. + +Many a game at dominoes or whist had been played there lately by the +men from the saloon, who had become so friendly with its rightful +owners that they did not even wait for an invitation. Besides, in many +respects, the second cabin was preferable to the deckhouse. In the +former the steward was always at hand to provide refreshments, whilst +in the latter, if a man wished for anything, he was compelled to go on +deck and find the head steward, which interrupted the game, and annoyed +all concerned. + +Since the cardroom had been closed, Godfrey Harland’s time hung heavily +upon his hands. He was not quite so bold and open as he had been in +paying court to Grace Vansittart. He fancied her father and mother +looked somewhat more coolly on him than they had done at first, and +preferred whispering ‘soft nothings’ to her, when they found themselves +alone. So he did not care to be shut up in the state cabin all the +evening, where every look he gave, and word he uttered, was seen, +heard, and commented upon. He was debarred from entering the berth of +Vernon Blythe. An instinctive dislike existed between these two young +men, and made itself apparent every time they met. So the only resource +left to him seemed the second cabin, to which a young fellow of the +name of Pemberton had warmly invited him. Harland knew he should meet +Will Farrell there, but on the whole he thought it advisable he should +meet and make friends with him before they parted company. But he +little thought _how_ much more Farrell knew of him now than he had done +when they last saw each other. Had he done so, he would have known he +had better have entered a cockatrice’s den than the second cabin of the +_Pandora_. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XII. + +A GAME OF DOMINOES. + + +‘Good-evening, Mr Harland. You are a stranger here,’ said Farrell, as +he entered. ‘I thought you were going to slight your humble friend +(meaning myself) throughout the voyage, but--’ + +‘So you have met before,’ interrupted Mr Pemberton, who was of the +party. + +‘Oh, yes, we _have_ met before--many years ago,’ drawled Harland. + +‘When we were clerks in the same office,’ put in Farrell. + +‘Quite a boyish acquaintance,’ said the other, with an uneasy laugh, +for Farrell’s manner had annoyed him. + +‘Many people say that boyish acquaintances last the longest, and are +the least soon forgotten,’ remarked Pemberton. + +‘I don’t think Mr Harland and I shall forget each other in a hurry,’ +laughed Farrell sarcastically. ‘The memory of Mr Horace--I mean of the +office and all that occurred there, will follow me to my grave!’ + +‘Come, come! Let us get to business!’ interposed Pemberton, seeing that +the two men were at daggers-drawn with one another, though for what +cause was a mystery to him. ‘Shall we make up a four at dominoes?’ + +‘I am agreeable!’ returned Farrell. + +‘And so am I,’ said Harland; ‘will the ladies join us?’ + +‘I am afraid not,’ answered Farrell. ‘The deck is too wet for them; but +I will ask, if you like.’ + +To his entreaties at the doors of the ladies’ berths he received +nothing but negatives. Miss Douglas was already in bed, Miss Grant was +afraid of the damp, and Mrs Medlicott was nursing a sick child. But a +volunteer was soon found in the person of Bob Perry. + +‘What do you play for?’ inquired Harland, when they had turned up the +two highest and lowest, and Farrell and Pemberton had been elected +partners. ‘What do you say to threepence each on the pips that stand +out?’ + +‘Oh, no!’ exclaimed Perry, ‘that is too much. It may run up to a matter +of five shillings a game, and I can’t afford it.’ + +‘Well, we can’t play for _love_,’ sneered Harland; ‘never you mind, +Perry, I’ll stand bail for both of us.’ + +‘I object to that,’ said Farrell. ‘I do not wish to play for such high +stakes any more than Mr Perry. I am simply playing to make the time +pass, and don’t want to make or lose money by the game. You forget, Mr +Harland, that we are not all like yourself, on a trip _for pleasure_!’ + +He emphasised the words unpleasantly, and Harland swore under his +breath, but answered nothing. + +‘Suppose we play for threepence a game,’ suggested Mr Pemberton. ‘As +Farrell says, we don’t want to make money by the stones. All that is +necessary to give zest to the victory is a small stake that shall +benefit the winner without breaking his companions.’ + +‘All right,’ assented Harland, in anything but a good humour; ‘go +ahead. Double six begins. But, stop a minute. Before we start, we will +toss for drinks round.’ + +To this proposition the other men were not strong-minded enough to +object, and the silver coins were spun in the air, and clinked upon the +table, resulting, luckily for them, in Godfrey Harland having to pay +the forfeit, and the steward was despatched to the bar with the orders. + +The game was finished, and the players tossed again, and the stones +were divided, and so it went on until five bells was struck, which was +the signal for all the ship lights to be extinguished. + +‘Lights out, please!’ sung out the third officer at the booby hatch. + +‘In one minute, Mr Sparkes,’ replied Harland. ‘Let us finish the game, +there’s a good fellow.’ + +‘It is against the rule,’ said the junior mate; ‘I cannot disobey my +orders.’ + +‘Come down and have a glass of whisky, then,’ urged Mr Pemberton; ‘we +have more than half a bottle left.’ + +To this invitation Mr Richard Sparkes did not reply that he could not +disobey orders, but glancing aft to satisfy himself that the ‘old man’ +was not on deck, he quickly descended the companion, and stepping up to +the table, muttered his thanks, and swallowed the intoxicating draught. + +‘You understand, don’t you, Sparkes,’ said Harland; ‘we shan’t be +a minute, old man. Just shut down the hatch, and cover it with a +tarpaulin, and if that d--d inquisitive second mate of yours discovers +the glim, I’ll take the blame on myself.’ + +Whereupon, without another word, the third officer left them to their +pursuits. When the game had come to a conclusion, Pemberton signified +his intention to turn in, and bidding them good-night, went to his +cabin. Bob Perry, who was half-seas over, also retired, and the two +belligerents were alone together. It was for this that Farrell had +taken a hand at the game. It was to this end he had worked to find +himself cheek-by-jowl with the man he hated more deadlily than he had +ever done before. He thirsted to put a spoke in Harland’s wheel,--to +alarm him thoroughly,--to show a little of his own hand, but not too +much, and make him uncomfortable for the remainder of the voyage. + +‘Drink up and have some more,’ said Harland, breaking the silence that +ensued on the departure of their companions. + +‘I don’t care for any. I have had enough,’ replied Farrell, lying back +in his chair. ‘Well, our journey will soon be over now. What do you +intend to do when we reach Lyttleton?’ + +‘I don’t know, I’m sure,’ returned Harland. ‘I shall enjoy myself as +long as I find anything worth enjoying, and then, perhaps, take a trip +over to America, and visit some of my friends there.’ + +‘But I thought you had taken service under Mr Vansittart, and were +bound to remain with him?’ said Farrell. + +Godfrey Harland opened his eyes with astonishment. + +‘Then you are under a great delusion. I have certainly promised to be +the guest of the Vansittarts for a short time, and circumstances may +arise to detain me longer, but there is no obligation in the matter, +unless it be on _my_ side.’ + +‘Oh! indeed. People say otherwise on board. I have heard it stated +confidently that you are Mr Vansittart’s land-agent, and that he has +been imprudent enough to take you without references.’ + +‘D--n their impertinence!’ growled Harland, ‘prying into other people’s +affairs. I should like to know the name of the person who has been +spreading these false reports about me.’ + +‘_I_ shall not tell you,’ retorted Farrell. ‘It is quite immaterial to +me whether you keep Mr Vansittart, or Mr Vansittart keeps you, but I +should think the latter by far the most probable of the two. And is it +true that you intend to marry his daughter?’ + +‘It is no business of yours if I do.’ + +‘Certainly not. It’s no business of mine if you turn Mormon, which, I +suppose, is the next thing you’ll think of.’ + +‘What do you mean by making that remark?’ said Harland, turning pale. + +‘Only that English laws are in force in the colonies, and a man is only +allowed to have one wife at a time.’ + +‘What would you insinuate, you scoundrel?’ demanded Harland, beginning +to feel alarmed. + +‘Softly--softly,’ said Will Farrell, ‘don’t raise your voice. Some one +might overhear you. I never insinuate, as I think I informed you at +our last meeting; I always speak my mind, and if you wish me to do so +now, I will. I will go further, and take our fellow-passengers into my +confidence, if you desire to become notorious amongst them.’ + +‘What would you tell them?’ demanded Harland, livid with passion. + +‘That you have a wife already, and cannot marry Miss Vansittart.’ + +‘It is a lie! I was never married to her.’ + +Farrell was staggered for a moment by this bold assertion. What if it +were true. The man before him was villain enough for anything, and the +first thing a woman tries to hide is her own shame. Yet Maggie had said +that Iris was his wife, and he did not believe that Maggie would tell +an untruth. + +‘That is easily settled,’ he answered quickly; ‘we can appeal to Mrs +Harland.’ + +‘You cannot. She is dead.’ + +‘That is a lie!’ cried Farrell fiercely, ‘as great a lie as the other. +I _know_ your wife to be alive.’ + +‘Where have you seen her?’ + +‘I shall not tell you.’ + +‘I will _make_ you!’ exclaimed Harland, advancing upon him. + +But Farrell was prepared for the attack. + +‘Dare to lay a finger on me,’ he said, ‘and the whole ship shall hear +your story.’ + +‘What story have you to tell them?’ repeated his adversary. + +‘One that would make two or three columns of the most interesting +reading in the daily papers, Mr Horace Cain. Only a little incident +that occurred a few years since (how many was it--_ten_?) at Starling’s +Bank. A forged cheque--the warrant for an arrest--a fruitless +search--an escape to America--and what _I_ should call a most imprudent +return. I should point out the hero of the piece to them--it would be +quite a melodrama. Virtue triumphant, vice in the background, and the +blue fire of their indignation over all.’ + +‘And who would believe your story?’ sneered Harland. + +‘I would _make_ them believe it,’ resumed Farrell, in a sadder and more +earnest voice. ‘I would point to myself as its best proof,--to _me_ +whom your bad example ruined--whom your cowardice left in the lurch--on +whom the stigma of your villainy fell like a curse, rising up like the +deadly nightshade to poison every home I tried to make for myself. +Godfrey Harland (as you choose to call yourself), you have been my bad +genius from the day we met. You tempted me to evil, and left me to +bear the brunt of your own misdemeanour. You have ruined others beside +myself--(I know more of your doings than you think of). But your day is +ended. Before you blight another life, as you have done mine, I will +blazon the miserable truth to the world.’ + +‘Where would your proofs be?’ cried Harland; ‘and who would credit your +simple word. I’d soon hash your goose for you, my fine fellow. A low +second-class passenger attempting to blackguard a gentleman! I’d tell +them you had tried to extort money from me, and failed, and they would +accept my statement much sooner than yours; and in all probability you +would receive an injunction from the captain to keep the peace, or be +put under arrest. Why, you’re not sober now, you useless, drunken +“ne’er-do-weel.” Don’t you presume on your former knowledge to speak to +me again. I have done with you from this moment.’ + +And Harland rose to leave the spot. + +‘And don’t you dare to venture down here again,’ replied Farrell, +trembling with excitement, ‘or I will carry out my threat, and expose +you before the whole ship’s company, as Mr Horace Cain, the for--’ + +‘Take care what you say,’ interrupted Harland, in a hoarse voice, ‘or I +shall not be able to control my temper. I have stood your insults long +enough.’ + +‘Not longer than I have submitted to yours. And I have a double debt to +discharge to you now, Mr Harland. You think that I know nothing,--that +I am powerless to damage your character. What about Maggie Greet, who +served your deserted wife in England?’ + +At that name, Godfrey Harland felt his limbs tremble. The thought +of Maggie Greet had always had more power to sting his hardened +conscience than that of his wife. He was more afraid of her than of +Iris, and less certain of her keeping his secrets. + +‘I don’t know to whom you allude,’ he replied, attempting to brave it +out. ‘Was she the “slavey?” You really cannot expect me to remember the +names of those sort of people.’ + +‘And yet she remembers _you_,’ said Farrell sarcastically. ‘How +strange. And she remembers the wrong you did her into the bargain. +Stranger still, isn’t it?’ + +‘Oh, enough of this cursed twaddle!’ cried Harland, who was most +anxious to get away. ‘You are talking of a lot of things of which you +know nothing. I am off to bed now. Let us thoroughly understand each +other. If you presume to speak to me again, I shall cut you dead.’ + +‘And if you come down to the second cabin again, I’ll break every bone +in your body,’ retorted Farrell. ‘And when I get you on shore, my boy, +we’ll have it out, whoever is by to see, and let the best man win.’ + +Harland was on the top rung of the ladder, and as he heard Will +Farrell’s parting threat he turned pale with fear, and the beads of +perspiration stood on his forehead like dew. + +What if any one should have overheard his words. He pushed up the +hatch, and alighting on the deck, staggered to his cabin, and threw +himself upon the berth in a state bordering on despair. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XIII. + +IN THE SMOKE-ROOM. + + +The accident that occurred to little Winifred Leyton, and the rough +weather that succeeded it, had pretty well driven the idea of the +proposed theatricals out of the ladies’ heads. In the first place, an +unaccountable gloom seemed to have fallen upon the amateur company, and +they became so indifferent about the whole affair, that Miss Vere left +them to themselves, and sought refuge in her own studies. + +Alice Leyton and Captain Lovell looked as if the world were over for +both of them. He had been afraid, since his interview with Mrs Leyton, +to speak more openly to her daughter than he had done, and the girl +imagined, in consequence, that he had been trifling with her. She spent +her time, therefore, in gazing in a melancholy fashion over the sea, +whilst he sat at the opposite side of the deck and gazed at her; and +Miss Vere said she was quite sick of them both. + +Jack Blythe, too, was not in his usual spirits. The fair manageress +had fully intended to enlist the handsome young officer amongst her +volunteers, but he had decidedly refused to take any part in the +amusement, and she laid it all down to the charge of Alice Leyton, +and grew still more angry with her in consequence. But when the cold +weather continued to debar the ladies from sitting on deck, and the +evenings became long and tedious, the idea of the theatricals was once +more revived, and hailed as a distraction. Since the smoke-room had +been deserted by the card-players, the younger couples had crept in +and taken possession of it, and on the morning after the swamping of +the after cabin, several of them assembled there, with their books +and work and writing, Captain Lovell, as usual, looking unutterable +things at the love-stricken Alice, and Mr Fowler, who had never +disclosed the secrets of his past, his present, nor his future, to his +fellow-passengers, basking in the smiles of Miss Vere, with whom he was +a great favourite. Poor Harold Greenwood, who had fallen into terrible +disgrace with most of the ship’s company since his little _escapade_ +with the lighted lucifer, and who had tried to indemnify himself for +cold looks and flagging conversation, by falling hopelessly in love +with the actress, was worshipping her at a respectful distance, and +Pemberton was doing the agreeable to Mrs Vansittart, whose daughter, +despite all her maternal warnings, persisted in walking the poop deck +on the arm of Godfrey Harland. + +Mr Vansittart was also present, although he could not be numbered +amongst the young people, but his genial nature made him welcome +everywhere. The old gentleman was not so easy in his mind, however, as +he professed to be. Sundry hints and rumours concerning Harland had +greatly disturbed him lately, and he had made up his mind to speak +seriously to Grace on the subject. She had refused to listen to her +mother’s advice, but, if necessary, he would force her to attend to his +orders. He was not satisfied with what he had heard, nor with himself +for having admitted a stranger so intimately to their society. However, +luckily nothing was settled as yet, and he was determined to stop any +further philandering until he had had an opportunity to inquire into +the young man’s antecedents and connections. + +‘Where is Grace?’ were the first words he had addressed to his wife on +joining her. + +‘I don’t know, my dear,’ was the reply. ‘She left me half-an-hour ago--’ + +‘Miss Vansittart is on the poop with Mr Harland,’ interposed Alice +Leyton; ‘I saw them walking there just now.’ + +‘I must go and put a stop to this,’ said Mr Vansittart, commencing to +button up his greatcoat again. + +His wife laid her hand on his arm. + +‘Not just now, my dear. Wait till after lunch. It will look so peculiar +to drag her away from him in the sight of everybody.’ + +‘You are right, old lady,’ he said, reseating himself. ‘The business +will keep till after lunch.’ + +‘What part of the country are you going to, Alice?’ demanded Miss Vere, +with a view to turning the conversation. + +‘We go straight home to Paradise Farm in the Hurunni, which is about +sixty miles from Christchurch. Father will meet us on arrival, and take +us up country. Isn’t it strange? He has never seen Winnie yet, and I +do not suppose he will recognise me. I was only fourteen when I left +New Zealand. How glad I shall be to see it again.’ + +‘You love a country life, Miss Leyton?’ said Lovell. + +‘Oh, dearly! My father has a large sheep-run close to the Weka Pass, +and we live right up in the bush, with not another house within ten +miles of us. I shall milk the cows, and look after the garden and the +poultry, and teach baby as much as I know myself. It is just the sort +of life I love. I hate streets and towns, and a lot of houses all +staring at one another.’ + +‘And a lot of officers staring at you,’ said Jack Blythe, looking in at +the open door. ‘Come, Alice; be honest! You know you liked the officers +at Southsea.’ + +‘Ah! I was young then, and knew no better,’ replied Alice, blushing; +‘but now I am wiser.’ + +‘What a wonderful effect the sea air has had upon you,’ remarked Jack, +laughing. ‘I have heard it is considered a cure for love, but never +before for vanity.’ + +‘Oh, now, Jack, do go away!’ exclaimed Alice; ‘you are interrupting all +our conversation.’ + +‘Yes; and coming in just at the wrong time, and spoiling the effect of +your pretty speeches. It was awfully inconsiderate of me. I will atone +for it now. I will go.’ + +And he disappeared. + +‘What a bright, handsome face Mr Blythe has. I think he is one of the +finest young fellows I ever saw. I wish he was in my company,’ remarked +Miss Vere. + +‘Oh, Miss Vere! I wish you would take _me_ into your company, don’t +you know?’ sighed Mr Greenwood. ‘I would do anything for you, ’pon +my word I would,--play parts, or take the tickets, or sweep out the +theatre,--anything, only to be near you--to see you--and feel I was of +some use, don’t you know? Couldn’t you manage it, eh?’ + +‘Why, Mr Greenwood, what do you mean by talking of prostituting your +talents by sweeping a floor?’ cried the actress, heartily amused. ‘What +would your family say to such a degradation? No, no! What you have to +do now is to learn your part for our theatricals, and when they are +over, we’ll talk about the other thing. But we have interrupted Alice +in her description of her New Zealand home.’ + +‘There is not much more to tell,’ said Alice. ‘It is lovely, as I +remember it, and I hope I shall think it lovely still. But--’ with a +long-drawn sigh--‘it is the _people_, and not the _place_, that make a +home.’ + +‘Just my sentiments,’ replied Captain Lovell. ‘I am going to Geraldine, +but I have no friends there.’ + +‘You will be a long way from us,’ said Alice timidly. + +‘Yes. But I suppose there is some sort of conveyance between the +places.’ + +‘Of course there is! You mustn’t think that New Zealand is a perfectly +uncivilised country. There are trains running all through it.’ + +‘Are you going to farm, Captain Lovell?’ asked Fowler. + +‘That is my intention. A friend of mine has bought a place out there, +and I am about to join him. I know but little about ploughshares and +wurzels, but my friend Cathcart is a crack hand at it all; and I am +sure I shall prefer a free life to the slavery of the army. That is to +say, if--if--’ + +‘If what?’ demanded Fowler. + +‘If I can settle down there,--make a home for myself, in fact,’ said +the captain, with a shy look at his inamorata. + +‘Persuade some one to settle down with you, you mean?’ laughed his +companion. + +‘Yes! _that_ is what I mean,’ acquiesced Lovell, apparently relieved to +have the matter settled for him. ‘What are your own plans?’ + +‘Oh! mine are very uncertain. I may remain three months, or six, but I +hope to return home _via_ the Canal before a year is over my head.’ + +‘Private business, I presume?’ + +‘Strictly private.’ + +‘Oh, Mr Fowler! you are so close; I am sure there is a lady in the +case,’ laughed Miss Vere. + +‘If she were anything like _you_, Miss Vere, I should pray there might +be. But I have no such luck.’ + +‘Do you know the country at all?’ asked Lovell. + +‘I am sorry to say _no_; but I have friends out there who will soon set +me all right.’ + +‘I wonder what the shooting is like,’ said the captain thoughtfully. + +‘Why, _I_ can tell you that!’ exclaimed Alice. ‘The Middle Island +abounds with game--Paradise ducks, grey ducks, swans, and pheasants; +and if you want bigger sport, there are wild cattle and boars.’ + +‘Is there good hunting there also?’ + +‘Very little. We have no foxes or hares. I have seen the harriers out, +but I have never known them to find.’ + +‘That is very disappointing,’ replied Lovell. ‘I should have +thought, since the country contains boars, there would be plenty of +pig-sticking.’ + +‘But you won’t have any time for hunting. The farm will take up all +your attention. You will have to plough, and reap, and harrow, and +drive the cattle home. Everybody works in the bush, even the women; in +fact, I think the women work almost harder than the men.’ + +‘And why shouldn’t they?’ said Miss Vere. ‘When women do more work +in England, they will have a better claim to be acknowledged on an +equality with man.’ + +‘Do you not admit, then, that man is the superior animal, Miss Vere?’ +asked Mr Fowler, with a view to draw the actress out. + +‘In weight, strength, and stature, Mr Fowler--yes. But intellectually, +I think his superiority is at least open to question.’ + +‘So do I, Miss Vere,’ said Dr Lennard, who had joined the party. ‘I +believe that the female brain only needs development, and that as +civilisation advances, and _Woman_ boldly asserts her rights, she will +find herself absolutely equal with Man in all things.’ + +‘But is a woman’s brain as large as a man’s?’ demanded Captain Lovell, +who had a head like a bullet. + +‘In proportion to her size there is very little difference--about +one-fiftieth--which, as brain power, can easily be made up by its +finer texture,’ replied the doctor. ‘My belief is, that the wretched +education women have hitherto received has been the sole cause of +their keeping in the background, and that when they obtain a fair field +they will come to the front. Don’t you agree with me, Miss Vere?’ + +‘Certainly I do. See how they _have_ come to the front in almost every +profession they have been allowed to enter, and in so short a time too. +It will not be long now before women will support themselves entirely +by their own labour, and be independent of marriage and men.’ + +‘That will be a sad day for us,’ laughed Mr Fowler. + +‘Do you think so? I don’t! I think we have sold ourselves for board +and lodging long enough, and shall choose better when we are free to +choose.’ + +‘We have much to thank women for even now,’ said Dr Lennard. ‘The +greatest geniuses the world has ever seen have repeatedly acknowledged +that they owed all their moral and intellectual positions to their +mothers. And it is a well-known fact, that there has never been an +extraordinarily clever man born of a stupid mother, nor a giant of a +little woman. And yet, in either case, the father may have been a fool +or a dwarf.’ + +‘How do you account, then, for woman’s inferior position?’ said Lovell. + +‘Because she has been kept down!’ cried Miss Vere. ‘She has never been +allowed to enjoy the sports, or follow the vocations, to which she has +an equal right with man. She has been debarred from proper exercise +by a set of prudes, who consider all out-door amusements unfitted for +modest and womanly women, but which are in reality the very means most +necessary to develop a woman’s brain, as well as her body. How then can +men wonder if--if--’ + +‘Let me assist you, Miss Vere,’ interrupted the doctor. ‘I think you +were going to say that the corpuscles of your sex are devoid of the +brain nourishing oxygen, and, if so, I quite agree with you.’ + +‘Yes; that is what I meant, doctor; but I was too ignorant--fault of my +feminine education again, you see--to find words in which to express +myself.’ + +‘Everything depends on the rearing of girls,’ remarked Dr Lennard. +‘Parents are careful to bring up their sons to healthful occupations +and exercises, but their daughters are but too often doomed, by the +injustice and short-sighted folly of the world, to a life of inertion.’ + +‘Hardly _injustice_, doctor,’ said Mrs Vansittart; ‘it is their own +choice. I am sure women have every liberty now-a-days.’ + +‘Yes, _injustice_. The doctor is perfectly right. There is no other +word for it,’ exclaimed Alice, suddenly bursting into eloquence. + +‘So you are going to take up the gauntlet for your sex?’ laughed the +doctor. ‘You do not look a very ill-used person, though, Miss Alice, +with that rose-leaf complexion and peachy cheek.’ + +‘Doctor, it is very rude to be so personal. You quite confuse me. What +was I talking about?’ said the girl. + +‘Injustice to your lovely sex,’ replied Mr Fowler. + +‘Oh, yes. Why have many of our cleverest women written under an assumed +name, and signed their works by a masculine one, except that they knew +how difficult it is to convince the world that anything really good can +be produced by a woman. And then you deny that men are unjust to us.’ + +‘Why, Alice, you astonish me. I had no idea that you could talk so +well,’ said Captain Lovell, as she finished her peroration. + +But if her eloquence had astonished the young officer, his familiarity +with her surprised his hearers still more. It was the first time he had +called her by her Christian name in public, and Alice coloured scarlet +as she heard it. A painful pause ensued, in which Miss Vere came to the +rescue. + +‘Well, it seems to me,’ she said, ‘that in discussing women’s brains, +we have quite forgotten that we met to discuss the private theatricals. +Miss Leyton, have you quite decided to play “Julia” to Captain Lovell’s +“Faulkner”?’ + +‘Yes, quite, I think,’ replied Alice, who was still as red as a peony. + +‘Then we must fix on the dresses. I think you told me you had a white +dress that--’ + +‘There is such a splendid ship in sight, do you know?’ exclaimed Harold +Greenwood, suddenly bursting in upon them. ‘She has four masts, and is +going to Calcutta. Won’t you come on deck and see her, eh?’ + +‘Oh, we must run up and see the ship,’ cried everybody, as they +deserted the smoke-room. + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XIV. + +SETTLED. + + +The large vessel, which turned out to be the _Carrickfergus_, of +Glasgow, bound for Calcutta, did not appear to interest Alice Leyton +and Captain Lovell. They gazed at her for a few moments in silence, and +then turned away, as if by mutual consent, and walked to the other side +of the deck together. + +‘Why don’t you stay and watch them pulling up the flags?’ said Alice, +as she perceived that the captain had followed her. + +‘Because I would far rather be with you. Alice, what is the matter? +What have I done to offend you?’ + +‘Do I look offended?’ + +‘You do not smile as sweetly as usual, and I am miserable. Is it +possible you are angry with me?’ + +‘Yes, I am--a little. Why did you call me “Alice” before all those +people? You know you have no right to do so, and the next thing we +shall hear, is that it is reported all over the ship we are engaged.’ + +‘Then let us forestall their gossip, and make the report true. Let us +be engaged, Alice.’ + +‘How can we, when mother won’t hear of it? She says everything must +remain _in statu quo_ until she sees my father. I believe she is half +sorry I have broken with Jack Blythe. She is always extolling his +bravery and courage to the skies, because he jumped in the sea after +baby. I wish,’ continued Alice, with a suspicious moisture in her blue +eyes, ‘I do wish, Robert, that _you_ had been the one to save her. Then +mother would have thought nothing too good for _you_.’ + +‘Oh, my darling! don’t you believe I _would_ have done so if Blythe had +not forestalled me? I was looking after _you_, you know; and it would +have been of no use _two_ of us jumping into the water at the same +time--would it, now?’ + +‘No, I suppose not,’ replied Alice, with a sigh; ‘but baby is all the +world to mother.’ + +‘Then she will have the less trouble in making up her mind to part with +you, Alice! I have been half afraid to speak openly to you since that +interview with Mrs Leyton. She seemed so dead set against my suit. But +I think we ought to understand each other. The matter really concerns +only you and me, and I want to have something definite to say to your +father when I meet him. Tell me the truth, then. Do you love me?’ + +‘Oh, Robert! I think you _know_ I do,’ whispered Alice. + +‘Better than you loved Mr Blythe?’ + +‘I don’t think now that I ever really loved him. I _liked_ him very +much. He is a dear, good fellow. I like him still, but I feel I could +never _marry_ him.’ + +‘And could you marry _me_, darling?’ + +Alice’s blushes spoke for her. She was not much more than a child in +years, but her womanhood was born at that moment, and she felt her +heart leaping in mighty throbs to welcome it. But her tongue refused to +utter the thoughts that were surging in her brain. + +‘Can’t you speak to me?’ pleaded Captain Lovell presently. ‘Just say, +“Robert, I love you, and I will be your wife,” and my heart will be at +rest for ever more.’ + +Alice turned her big blue eyes suddenly upon him. + +‘I love you,’ she said rapidly, ‘and I will be your wife.’ + +And then, as if frightened at the sound of her own boldness, she +flushed scarlet from brow to bosom, and the tears rushed to her eyes. +Lovell thought he had never seen her look so pretty as when she stood +thus, burning with love and shame, before him. + +‘My darling!’ he exclaimed, ‘how I wish that I could kiss you! But a +hundred eyes are on us, and I can only thank you for your consent by +word of mouth. Thank you a thousand times, my wife that is to be! I +shall be as brave as a lion, Alice, with your sweet promise to urge me +on. And now, let the people say what they choose. We _are_ engaged to +one another, and no one can part us, unless your father does. So let us +be as happy as we can till we reach New Zealand, and not anticipate an +evil that may never come.’ + +‘Here are Miss Vere and Mr Fowler. Talk of something else,’ said Alice, +in a fearful whisper. + +‘Tell me how you employ yourself all day long at Paradise Farm, Miss +Leyton,’ replied Lovell, taking the cue. + +‘Oh, there are no end of things to be done! The day is not half long +enough. I help mother in the house during the mornings, and in the +afternoons I ride or drive or garden, according to the weather.’ + +‘Or pay horrid social calls,’ suggested the captain. + +‘Not often--that is, in up-country stations. The distances are too +great. The nearest dwelling-house to ours is ten miles off. But we +drive to the town sometimes, and to afternoon dances and teas.’ + +‘And in the evenings?’ + +‘We read books or do crewel work, and go to bed at ten.’ + +‘Whew!’ said Lovell, giving a long, low whistle; ‘what an awful +existence!’ + +‘Don’t try it, then,’ returned Alice archly; ‘for everybody does the +same. We rise at four or five, have dinner at one (and it usually +consists of mutton in every shape and form), tea at six, and all lights +out at ten. You will soon fall into the custom, and begin yawning at +nine o’clock.’ + +‘But what work can such little hands as yours do?’ + +‘Everything! There are very few servants in New Zealand, and the +squatters’ wives and daughters do all the cooking, washing, and +cleaning themselves. Sometimes I saddle father’s horse or my own, and +if he is busy, I chop up wood for the fire, and draw the water for the +use of the house.’ + +‘I cannot believe it. You are joking with me! Such work is not fit for +such a delicate creature as you are,’ said Lovell, looking genuinely +distressed. + +‘Indeed, I am not delicate; and if I were, I would help my parents all +in my power. I shall always work for them whilst I am at home.’ + +‘I hope you will not be at home long, my darling,’ whispered her lover. + +‘If not, I shall work in the house I go to,’ whispered Alice, in return. + +‘Not while I have a hand to do it for you,’ said Lovell. ‘Alice! if +you will consent to come and brighten my poor home with the sunshine +of your presence, you must promise to leave the hard work to some one +else.’ + +‘I will promise to do exactly as you tell me, Robert,’ she answered; +‘but I’m afraid we are attracting attention, and it must be nearly time +for luncheon. Here comes Mr and Miss Vansittart. Let me go back to +mother! I feel as if everybody must guess what we have been talking of, +from my face.’ + +‘Little goose--’ said Lovell fondly, as he handed her down the +companion. + +Mr Vansittart was talking so seriously to his daughter, that they had +not even noticed the presence of the lovers. + +‘Gracie, my dear,’ he had commenced by saying, ‘I wants to have a +little chat with you about Mr Harland. You two seem to be taking up +with one another, to my mind, and so I think it right to warn you +before it goes too far.’ + +‘To _warn_ me, papa?’ said Grace, with open eyes. ‘Of _what_?’ + +‘Why, that before any gentleman proposes to be your husband, he must +be prepared to satisfy me concerning his family, and his character, +and his means of making a living. And I am afraid Mr Harland is _not_ +prepared to do so.’ + +‘Why should you say that, papa? I think it is bitterly unfair.’ + +‘No, my dear! there ain’t no fairness nor unfairness about it. It’s +just a matter of business. I’m sorry to see as Mr Harland is not a +favourite aboard ship, and there’s one or two nasty tales floating +about concerning his card-playing that have quite choked me off him. +And so I consider it’s time I looked a bit after the way he’s going on +with you. You see, my dear, I don’t know anything about the young man’s +antecedents.’ + +‘Then I wonder at your bringing him out to Tabbakooloo with us, papa.’ + +‘Well, that was my mistake, Grace. But then I brought him out as a +land-agent, remember, and not as a son-in-law! I can dismiss the one, +but there’s no dismissing of the other. And so it behoves us to be +careful. Now tell me candidly how far you’ve got with him.’ + +‘I don’t understand you, papa,’ said Miss Grace, who, when offended, +often professed not to be able to comprehend her parents’ meaning. + +‘D--n it all, then, I’ll put it plainer,’ said Mr Vansittart, getting +angry. ‘How much sweethearting’s gone on between you? Has he spoken to +you of marriage?’ + +‘Sometimes; naturally!’ + +‘Has he asked you downright to marry him?’ + +‘He has intimated that he wished it.’ + +‘And what did you say?’ + +‘Nothing, papa--’ + +‘You’re not engaged to him, nor any rubbish of that sort, then?’ + +‘Oh, no! How could I be, without asking your consent, and mamma’s? But +Godfrey--I mean Mr Harland--has told me several times that he only +waits till we arrive at Tabbakooloo to make formal proposals for my +hand.’ + +‘Formal fiddlesticks! If he was half a man, he’d have spoken up at +once. I’m very much afraid it ain’t all right. And so, look here, my +girl, whatever Harland may do when he gets ashore, remember it’s my +orders as nothing more goes on between you now. When he speaks to me, +he’ll get my answer; but I won’t have any more sweethearting aboard +this ship; and if you disobey me, I shall take means to keep you apart.’ + +‘But, papa, I can’t be cool to Mr Harland. Every one knows he is your +agent.’ + +‘I don’t want you to be cool to him, but I won’t have any love-making. +Your mother saw him kiss you last night in the cabin passage. You must +put a stop to that sort of thing at once. Do you fully understand me?’ + +‘Fully,’ replied Miss Vansittart, who fully understood her own +intentions also. + +‘I don’t believe the fellow’s got a sixpence to jingle on a tombstone,’ +continued Mr Vansittart, waxing warmer at his daughter’s reticence; +‘and a pauper don’t marry my only child. It’s like his impudence to +dream of it. Not that I would have made his poverty an objection +(having so much myself), if it hadn’t been for those other things. But +a man as cheats at play, must be bad all round.’ + +‘Who _dares_ to say that he cheats at play?’ exclaimed Grace +Vansittart, firing up in defence of her absent lover. ‘It’s a lie, +father. I am sure of it. Mr Harland would be incapable of such a +meanness.’ + +‘Well, I hope so, my dear, but I must know a little more about it +before I decide. Besides, that’s not all. He had a violent quarrel with +some low fellow in the second cabin the other night, and part of their +conversation was overheard, and has got about the ship, and it isn’t +nice--not nice at all. So, you see, until I can be satisfied of the +falseness of such rumours, I can’t do less than warn you, my dear, not +to show anything more than civility to Mr Harland. If I find on further +inquiry that they are true, I shall give him his return passage-money, +and his dismissal, as soon as ever we touch land, for I won’t have such +a man at Tabbakooloo.’ + +Grace was weeping silently by this time beneath her veil. She was a +proud, self-willed girl, and she would let her father see neither her +tears nor her determination to have her own way. But she foresaw the +trouble and opposition that would ensue, and felt much injured in +consequence. + +‘You don’t answer me,’ continued Mr Vansittart, perceiving she was +sulky, ‘and I daresay you feel a bit disappointed; but I mean what +I say, and I intend you shall obey me. And don’t forget I shall be +keeping a sharp eye on you, my girl, so it’s no use trying to deceive +me. And now go down to your lunch, and don’t let’s hear any more of the +subject.’ + +Grace dried her tears, and obeyed her father’s behest, but she felt +obstinately rebellious the while. Matters had gone much further +between her and Godfrey Harland than her parents had any idea of, but +they would never learn the truth now from her. She was one of those +women--very few and far between--who have the power to keep their own +secrets. The day came, and not so long after, when Grace Vansittart was +forced to acknowledge the justice of her father’s commands, but she +never gave him the satisfaction of hearing so. The day dawned also +when the weeks she spent on board the _Pandora_ were things of the +past, and a new life had opened before her--a life in which ‘Charlie +Monro’ took a part, and Mrs Vansittart’s prayers for her daughter’s +future were fulfilled. + +But had Charlie been fully acquainted with all that had transpired +during the voyage to New Zealand, would Grace Vansittart ever have +been transformed into Mrs Monro? Who can tell? If all our inmost +secrets were laid bare, would any one of us, male or female, occupy the +positions which we hold in the estimation of the world? + +The most exciting part of transmigration to another sphere, must surely +be the fact that in that ærial ‘Palace of Truth’ we are promised the +secrets of all hearts shall be revealed. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE LETTER. + + +It may be remembered that a certain letter written by Mr Vansittart +to Godfrey Harland, and left by that gentleman in his coat pocket, +was the means by which Iris discovered his intention to desert her. +Strange to say, Harland had never missed the letter. He only visited +his home on one occasion after that evening, and then the excitement +of his new prospects, and the necessity of keeping up appearances to +deceive his wife, had prevented his discovering his loss. Iris had +preserved the paper carefully, and brought it with her on board the +_Pandora_. She intended to produce it in proof of her right to have +followed her husband to New Zealand; and, in case of his attempting to +excuse himself, to confront him with the witness to his treachery. When +Maggie told her that Godfrey was paying open court to Grace Vansittart, +Iris took out her box of letters, and turned them over, and read that +one amongst others, to see if she could discover that he had had any +positive intention of committing bigamy before he started on the +voyage,--whether, in fact, his wooing of Miss Vansittart was the result +of an unfortunate passion, or of a premeditated crime. And, in putting +back her papers, she dropped Mr Vansittart’s note upon the cabin floor. +It was picked up and read by Will Farrell. As he was debating what to +do with it--having promised Maggie Greet that he would never divulge to +Iris that he knew her to be Godfrey Harland’s wife--Iris herself came +into the cabin, and walked its length with her eyes upon the floor, as +though searching for something. + +‘Have you lost anything, Miss Douglas?’ asked Farrell, as he watched +her. + +‘Yes, I have dropped a letter--a very important letter. Have you seen +it, steward?’ she said, in her sweet, low voice. + +‘No, miss, I ain’t,’ replied the steward. ‘When did you have it last?’ + +‘Only this morning. I was reading over some old letters, and this one +amongst them. It is written on thick, glazed paper, and has a large +monogram in red and gold at the top. I shall be very vexed if I lose +it.’ + +‘Well, I’ll find it for you if it’s aboard, miss. But p’raps it’s +blowed over. The wind has been very fresh through the cabin, to-day,’ +replied the steward, jingling his glasses. + +‘Oh! I _hope_ not!’ exclaimed Iris, clasping her hands in genuine +distress. ‘It is of the utmost consequence to me. Pray look for it at +once, steward; it may have got into your pantry, amongst the breakfast +things.’ + +The steward bundled off into his sanctum, and Will Farrell approached +her with the letter in his hand. + +‘Is this what you are looking for, Miss Douglas?’ + +Iris flushed scarlet. + +‘Oh, yes, it is indeed! I am so much obliged to you! Where did you find +it?’ + +‘Under the table. I picked it up about an hour ago.’ + +Iris took the letter, and twisted it about nervously in her fingers. + +‘Mr Farrell, have you read it?’ she said at last timidly. + +‘Yes, Miss Douglas, I have, and, begging your pardon, I should like to +know how it came into your possession.’ + +He knew well enough, but he said it to force her to a confession of the +truth. + +‘I--I don’t quite understand you,’ she stammered. + +‘I mean how is it that you hold a letter addressed to Godfrey Harland?’ + +‘Do you know him?’ she asked quickly. + +‘_Know him!_ I should rather think I did. I know him for the greatest +scoundrel unhung.’ + +‘Hush!--hush!’ cried Iris fearfully. + +‘I’m not afraid of who may hear me, Miss Douglas. The whole ship might +listen, for ought I should care about it. But I am sorry to think so +true a lady as yourself should have any connection (however distant) +with such a blackguard as Godfrey Harland.’ + +‘Ah! you don’t know--’ she commenced, with a look of the keenest pain. + +‘Won’t you tell me?’ he said coaxingly. ‘I’m a rough fellow, Miss +Douglas, and not a fit friend, perhaps, for the like of you. But I can +see you’re in trouble, and if your trouble is connected with that man, +you’ll want a friend to help you through with it. He’s a rascal--I +can’t help saying it, whatever you may think of him, and if he can +cheat you, he will, as he has done others, over and over again.’ + +‘Oh! I think I could trust you!’ exclaimed Iris involuntarily; ‘for +you look honest and true, Mr Farrell, and you love Maggie, and Maggie +loves me. Yes, I feel sure you will be the friend of _her_ friend. But +how astonished you will be when I tell you the truth! Stoop your head +lower, that no one may hear us. My name is not Miss Douglas at all. It +is Iris Harland. I am Godfrey Harland’s wife.’ + +‘God help you, poor thing!’ exclaimed Farrell fervently. + +‘Ah! what do you know against him to say that?’ she replied, shrinking +from him. ‘Did you ever hear of him before you met on board-ship?’ + +‘I have known him, to my misfortune, for years, Miss Douglas. He has +been the ruin of my life.’ + +‘God forgive him! How?’ + +‘We were clerks in the same office, though he was in a higher position +than myself, and his real name (as I suppose you know) is Horace Cain.’ + +‘_Horace Cain!_ repeated Iris, with knitted brows. ‘I never heard of +it. Mr Farrell, are you _sure_ you are not making a mistake? He married +me as Godfrey Harland.’ + +‘Then he married you under a false name. But he had good reason for +changing it, as I will prove to you. How well I remember the day his +father, old Mr Cain, brought him to Starling’s office, and what a +swell we all thought him! He had only left college a few weeks then, +owing to their loss of fortune, and he gave himself all the airs of a +millionaire. We were very much prejudiced against him at first, because +old Starling (who was a friend of his father’s) placed him over all our +heads, although he did not know anything of the business. However, it +was his policy to make himself agreeable, and learn all he could. And +nice work he made of the knowledge he gained. He hadn’t been six months +in the office, before a forgery was committed on old Starling’s bank +for eight hundred pounds. + +‘Mr Farrell,’ cried Iris, turning very white, as she clutched his arm, +‘it was not _Godfrey_ who did it?’ + +‘It certainly was, Miss Douglas.’ + +‘Oh, no, no! He is very bad. He is cruel and false and ungenerous, I +know, but _surely_ he never committed such an awful crime.’ + +‘Miss Douglas, Harland was the forger of that cheque, as sure as we sit +here. He has never denied it to me. He _cannot_. There were but two of +us who _could_ have done it--he and myself--and _I_ know that it was +not I.’ + +‘But how could he escape?’ + +‘He bolted to America, leaving a very cleverly-concocted letter behind +him to say that he knew that the suspicion would falsely fall upon +himself, and that he was unable either to bear such a calumny, or turn +Queen’s evidence against one whom he had treated as a friend. And by +the time the letter was received, he was clear off under an assumed +name, having left part of the receipts for the forged cheque (which +he sent _me_ to cash) in my desk, where, to my utter amazement, they +were found, rolled up in some old bills. Suspicion, of course, fell +upon me, but Cain’s conduct in running away was so mysterious, that +we were considered to be partners in crime, and as Mr Starling, for +his old friend’s sake, would institute no proceedings against Horace, +he refused also to prosecute me. But he turned me out of his office +without a character, and a stain upon my name, and the curse has +followed me ever since. I have tried again and again, Miss Douglas, +to procure permanent employment. I have even stooped to menial +service, with the same result. I get on well; I grow in favour with +my employers; I work hard--and then, just as I am rising to something +better, the curse comes down upon me, the old lie crops up. I am dubbed +as a suspected _forger_, and dismissed without ceremony. It is this +that sickened me of trying to live in England, and determined me to +try my fortune in another land. In New Zealand the old story may be +forgotten, and, if not, I shall find others as bad as myself. And now +you know, Miss Douglas, why I _hate_ Godfrey Harland. I met him before +we started, and warned him not to come near me during the voyage. He +has chosen to disregard that warning, and we have had a quarrel over +it. If he does it a second time, I have threatened to expose him to the +whole ship’s company, and I will keep my word. I will yet pay Horace +Cain out for the cruel turn he did me years ago.’ + +‘Oh, Mr Farrell, don’t say that!’ exclaimed Iris, who had grown as +white as a sheet as she listened to the disgraceful story. ‘Hard as it +is for me to say it, remember he is my husband, and I am bound to live +with him. For God’s sake don’t make my position worse than it need be. +I can’t tell you how I dread the prospect now. But as the wife of _a +forger_! Oh, heavens! it is too much, even for _me_ to bear!’ + +And she drooped her head upon the table and buried her face in her +hands. + +‘_Too much_,’ repeated Farrell. ‘I should think it _was_ too much. It +is sacrilege to think of such a thing. Miss Douglas, you must not go +back to him. He is not worthy of a second thought from you. By your own +confession, he has made you miserable--else why are you following him +under an assumed name, instead of openly proclaiming yourself his wife?’ + +‘I was afraid,’ faltered Iris. ‘He deserted me,--left me to starve +and--’ + +‘And took to courting Miss Vansittart instead. Cannot you see the +little game he is playing now, Miss Douglas. He wants to add bigamy +to his other misdemeanours. He has an idea of marrying his employer’s +daughter, and getting a handsome dowry with her, I suppose. I know he +has given himself out as an unmarried man, and all the ship imagines +they are an engaged couple.’ + +‘Maggie has told me the same,’ cried Iris excitedly, ‘but I cannot +believe it. How could he be so foolish, when he knows that I live, +and any mail might take out a letter to reveal the truth. Besides, +notwithstanding all his unkindness to me, I _did_ think sometimes that +he loved me a little.’ + +‘There speaks your woman’s vanity, Miss Douglas, and not your common +sense. How can any man _love_ the woman whom he makes miserable. But if +you doubt his motives respecting Miss Vansittart, watch them, and judge +for yourself.’ + +‘How can I watch them from this cabin. I only see them sometimes in +the evenings walking together on the poop.’ + +‘They have theatricals to-night, you know, in the little theatre that +the sailors rigged up in the after-part of the vessel. Go and see them, +and you will probably have a domestic drama enacted for your private +benefit. Both Mr Harland and Miss Vansittart have refused to act. They +prefer sitting together in the semi-darkness in front. Take my advice, +and when you come back to this cabin, you will tell me your mind is +made up.’ + +‘But if I should be seen? I have been so very careful since coming on +board, to keep out of his way.’ + +‘But _why_? What is your object in concealing yourself, now that we are +out at sea?’ + +‘I don’t quite know,’ faltered Iris; ‘but I am so afraid of him. He is +so violent, you know, when he is disturbed.’ + +‘And will he be less so on land? Or do you think you will have more +protection from him there than here? Miss Douglas, excuse me for saying +I think you are quite wrong. As you _have_ followed him (which seems to +have been a great mistake to me), the sooner you discover yourself the +better. Every day you keep the truth from him you increase the chance +of Miss Vansittart being made as unhappy as yourself. I don’t know what +sort of a girl she is, but since _you_ could be deceived by his false +tongue into believing him to be good and true, I suppose she may be the +same.’ + +‘Oh, how I wish I had never followed him!’ exclaimed Iris; ‘but what +was I to do? He left us (Maggie and me) without money or credit +or anything, just to steal or starve as we thought fit. And I was +indignant with him, and I knew it was his duty to support me, and so I +decided to come too. And now I feel as if I would rather drown than go +through what lies before me.’ + +‘Don’t think of yourself. Think of Miss Vansittart,’ urged Farrell. ‘It +is bitterly unfair that she should be a victim as well as you.’ + +‘Yes, I _will_ think of her, poor girl,’ said Iris, ‘and if I am +convinced that Godfrey means harm to her--’ + +‘Watch them when they think they are unobserved, and you will soon +be convinced of it, Miss Douglas. The sailors could tell you some +fine stories of their sweethearting on deck after dark. The girl is +infatuated with him. And I think his only object is to get her so +completely in his power that she shall marry him on landing, whether +her parents consent to it or not.’ + +‘It shall never go as far as that,’ said Iris, clenching her teeth. + +‘Then prevent it going any further now, for the sake of your own +dignity, and that of your sex, Miss Douglas. You may think you know Mr +Harland’s character thoroughly, but I am sure you are not aware of +half of what he is capable. Let me take you to the performance this +evening, and I will guarantee you shall not be discovered. You can +pretend you have the faceache, and wrap your head up in a veil, and I +will place you in a dark corner where you shall see without being seen.’ + +‘Yes! I _will_ go,’ replied Iris determinedly. ‘Even if the price were +to be instantaneous discovery, I would go.’ + +‘And if you find the case to be as I have described it to you?’ + +‘If I have self-evident proofs that my husband is deceiving this girl +by making love to her, I will go to him at once, and tell him I have +discovered his plans, and will circumvent them.’ + +‘Bravo! Miss Douglas. That is spoken like a brave woman. I was certain +you would eventually decide _that_ to be the only honest course before +you. But why are you crying? Surely you do not consider Godfrey +Harland to be worthy of your tears?’ + +‘Oh, Mr Farrell! you do not understand,’ sobbed Iris. ‘You do not know +how hard it is for a woman to come to the conclusion that she has +been wasting all her love on an unworthy object. I am not weeping for +the loss of _him_. I am weeping for the loss of my self-respect,--of +my faith in my fellow-creatures,--my faith in my own judgment and +discrimination. I feel so crushed--so humiliated--so ashamed, and as if +I never could put trust in anything on earth again.’ + +‘Well! I don’t know as it’s wise to do it at any time,’ replied +Farrell; ‘but “one swallow doesn’t make a summer.” You should take +pattern by Maggie. She seems to have had a rough time of it, poor +child, but she’s willing to throw it all behind her back, and try +again.’ + +‘_Has_ Maggie been unhappy?’ inquired Iris, drying her eyes. She never +told me so. And yet sometimes I have fancied there was _something_ +which she kept to herself, when she has been particularly kind and +loving to me. Oh! she is a dear good girl, Mr Farrell, and I am sure +she will repay your love to her. I cannot tell you what she has been to +me all through my wretched married life.’ + +‘Well, the ways of women are queer,’ said Farrell, scratching his head +thoughtfully, ‘and I don’t pretend to understand them. But I’m sure of +one thing, that whatever Maggie is, or has been, she loves you, Miss +Douglas, just like her own life. And she’d give up her life for yours +any day into the bargain. I’m as sure of it as I am that there’s a +heaven above us.’ + +‘And so am I,’ responded Iris warmly, as she made her escape to her own +cabin. + + +END OF VOL. II. + + +COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: + + + Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. + + Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. + + Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. + + Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75727 *** |